


we've got to get away from here

by suspendrs



Series: alien harry [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alien Harry, Angst, FBI Agent Louis, Happy Ending, I suppose, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, dunno what happened, this was supposed to be an x files au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: “It is my understanding that you are the most comprehensive member of this agency in the field of extraterrestrial life, is that right?” the agent asks. He’s trying to sound calm, but Louis can tell he’s shaken as well.“Um, I guess so,” Louis says, glancing over at the man in the blanket again.Suddenly, Louis’s blood runs cold. There’s something off about the man, something in his gaze, something Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s terribly unsettling, but excitement bubbles in his gut.Or, Louis is an FBI agent who likes to think himself a paranormal expert, and Harry is the alien that somehow ended up in his office.





	we've got to get away from here

**Author's Note:**

> story time: i started this fic back in february, just after mine and harry's birthdays. i finished it yesterday, may 1st. i have no idea why this fic caused me so much pain but it is finally finally finally done and i'm so happy to getting it off my plate and into the world. i'm not sure how proud i am of this one, but here it is.
> 
> title is from Sign of the Times, as if you didn't know.

If he was able to talk about his job, Louis would probably say he’s like a younger, prettier, gayer Fox Mulder. The thing is, there isn’t actually an X Files unit like there is in the TV series, but if there was, Louis would totally be the resident spook-handler.

In the few years he’s been with the FBI, Louis’s done enough needling and prying to earn himself most of the more paranormal cases they get, and though as of yet there have been no cases in which aliens were actually to blame, Louis hasn’t given up hope yet. He came from England to work with the FBI for a reason; if anyone knows about and is hiding information about aliens, it’s the American government. He’s not high enough in the ranks yet to be trusted with such information, but he knows the truth is out there.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s no tin-foil-hat-wearing conspiracy nut. Not yet, anyway. He’s just a healthy skeptic, and he has his ideas about what may be out there. He just thinks it’s silly to think that there’s really nothing else out there, okay?

Niall, Louis’s partner in both law and crime, is the other half of the screw that’s loose in Louis’s head. He’s as much of a looney toon as Louis could ever hope to be, and is much closer to that tin-foil-hat-wearing stereotype. Liam, on the other hand, the poor soul who got stuck being their coordinator, has no interest in what he calls their _ghost stories_. “Seriously,” he tells them, exasperated, “can’t anything just be humans doing things to other humans and not aliens trying to get our attention?”

And, yeah, while Louis’s never actually dealt with a confirmed case of extraterrestrial interference, it doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen, or that it hasn’t happened already right under their noses. Look at Mulder, he thinks, called a loon for years when he was right all along!

He’s in another one of his coffee induced daydreams, chin in his hand as he stares blankly at the wall in front of him. There aren’t any windows, but he and Niall have their own office in the basement that’s probably just to keep them from annoying everyone else doing ‘real work’. Whatever that is. 

Niall keeps throwing balled up pieces of paper at him to try and gain his attention and Louis has half a mind to tell him off for how wasteful he’s being, but he’s been ignoring him since Niall said half an hour ago that Michael Jackson probably isn’t still alive and hiding out in Canada. Louis doesn’t understand how anyone can look at the proof videos and still not believe it. 

“Louis,” Niall moans, pronouncing it phonetically to piss him off. “Stop moping about Michael Jackson being dead and listen to me.”

“He’s alive, and I’m not moping,” Louis says, turning his desk chair so his back is fully to Niall.

“Whatever,” Niall rolls his eyes, throwing another piece of paper at Louis’s head. “Just listen.”

“Nothing you say could possibly be as important as Michael Jackson,” Louis sighs, slowly turning back around to face him, “but go on.”

“D’you ever, like,” Niall looks down, playing with another piece of paper he has balled in his hands. “Like, doubt yourself? And the things you believe in?”

“You’re being extremely wasteful,” Louis says, nodding at the paper Niall is squeezing to death.

“Louis!” Niall groans, whipping the paper at him. It catches him in the face, and Louis cries out like he’s been shot. “You deserved that,” Niall tells him.

“Don’t be stupid, Niall,” Louis says, rubbing at his cheek and checking for blood. “You believe in these things for a reason. And that reason is because they’re true.”

“But what if they’re not true,” Niall says. “What if we’re wasting our lives here, Lou? What if the highest form of intelligent extraterrestrial life we ever find is microbial fuckin’ dirt on a planet we can’t even get to?”

“First of all,” Louis scoffs, “microbial life is not _dirt_ , Niall, it’s _proof_ of our cause. What’s got you down?” he asks, finally sitting up and giving Niall his attention.

“Dunno,” Niall shrugs, clicking around aimlessly on his laptop. “What if we’re as crazy as Liam thinks we are?”

“Niall, you damn well know we’re every bit as crazy as Liam thinks we are,” Louis laughs, scooping up a few of Niall’s paper balls off his lap and throwing them all at him at once. “Now get back to work.”

“We don’t even have a case right now,” Niall argues, dodging Louis’s attack easily. “What work would you like me to be doing?”

“You could go get me another coffee from upstairs,” Louis says, flashing him his empty mug. “Or you could go tell Liam that you need more to do.”

“You’re a bitch,” Niall grumbles, pushing out of his desk chair and swiping the mug from Louis’s hand. “Cream, no sugar, right?”

“Milk,” Louis corrects, hand on his stomach. “Cream upsets me tum.”

“Pussy,” Niall mutters, shoving his way out the door and out of Louis’s sight. Louis blows a kiss after him and then turns back to his laptop, continuing his very important task of looking extremely busy so he doesn’t have to do actual work.

Niall comes back after a bit with a mug of coffee and a tray of slightly stale donuts, setting both down on Louis’s desk and pulling his chair over to plop down next to him. 

“Well done, Niall!” Louis cheers, sitting up to grab a donut.

“They were unattended on a table,” Niall tells him proudly. “So I took them.”

“It’s not stealing when you’re the police,” Louis reasons through a mouthful of food. “Right?”

Niall laughs one of his sunshiney laughs at him and devours an entire donut in two bites, hardly even blinking. Louis thinks Niall himself might be an alien, but the jury’s still out.

They spend the rest of their day doing what they do best: eating and conspiring. Liam pops in a few times here and there to yell at them about things he definitely has no authority to be yelling at them about, but all in all, it’s a pretty uneventful day. 

-

Louis is rudely awoken at the ripe hour of 2am by his cell phone ringing loudly from somewhere under the bed. He spy rolls onto the floor to get it, rolling his eyes when he sees Liam’s name on his screen. He makes the executive decision to ignore it, planning to tell Liam he was asleep when he gets yelled at in the morning. He drops the phone onto his pillow and shuffles out to the kitchen of his one bedroom apartment for a drink of water, but before he’s even all the way out the door the phone starts ringing again. 

He sighs as he picks it up, bringing it to the kitchen with him. He doesn’t say anything until he’s finished filling a glass at the sink, and Liam is sure to be fuming.

“Tommo,” he greets.

“Louis!” Liam says, breathless. “Where are you?”

“At home?” Louis frowns, looking at the time. “It’s 2am, where the bloody fuck are you?”

“Nevermind,” Liam says hurriedly. “You need to come to the office.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Louis laughs, sipping at his water and leaving it on the worktop while he shuffles back to his room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Louis Tomlinson, do not hang up!” Liam shrieks. Louis flinches and frowns, flopping down on his bed.

“What the hell is this about?”

“Just get here,” Liam says. “Now.”

“Liam-”

“I have to call Niall. Just get here, okay, I promise you won’t regret it,” Liam says, and hangs up on him.

Louis considers his options for a moment. He could go back to sleep and pretend he thought this was all a dream in the morning, but he knows Liam would see right through that. He whines and moans as he inevitably drags himself out of bed and puts some clothes on, grabbing his keys and trudging out into the cold.

Liam is standing outside when Louis gets to the office, bouncing on his feet like it isn’t 2:00 in the morning. Louis takes his time getting out of the car, until Liam grabs him by the elbow and drags him inside.

“Do you want to tell me what the fuck this is about?” Louis bites, tugging his arm out of Liam’s grip. “Where is Niall? What’s going on?”

“Couldn’t get a hold of Niall, kid could sleep through the apocalypse,” Liam scoffs, still walking too bloody fast down the hall to the main conference room.

“Is this the apocalypse?” Louis wonders, glancing around the dark hallway. “Hm. Thought there would be more zombies.”

Liam flicks him on the side of the head and pushes into the conference room, which is a strange scene, at best.

A dozen or so officers are standing around, all looking vaguely terrified and confused. At the table sits a young man with fluffy brown hair, wrapped in a blanket, and, from what Louis can see of him, wearing a dress.

“Uh?” is the best Louis can come up with, staring at the man for a moment before looking back at Liam. “Um?”

“Agent Tomlinson,” says a voice, and Louis turns to find one of the FBI’s top agents addressing him. Fuck him, Louis can’t recall his name. He should really take his job more seriously.

“Sir?” Louis says, considering for a moment if he should bow or curtsy or something. He settles for crossing his arms over his chest, unsettled and uneasy.

“It is my understanding that you are the most comprehensive member of this agency in the field of extraterrestrial life, is that right?” the agent asks. He’s trying to sound calm, but Louis can tell he’s shaken as well.

“Um, I guess so,” Louis says, glancing over at the man in the blanket again. 

Suddenly, Louis’s blood runs cold. There’s something off about the man, something in his gaze, something Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s terribly unsettling, but excitement bubbles in his gut.

“This meeting is to remain absolutely confidential, do you understand that?” the agent says, motioning to someone to lock the door. Louis hears the lock click, but he can’t take his eyes off the man in the blanket.

“Sure, yeah,” he mutters, taking a step toward the table. The strange man blinks at him, and Louis almost flinches. There’s something just not right about him. Louis can’t look away.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” the agent says, frustrated, “I’ll appreciate your attention, please.”

 

“Sorry, yeah, I’m listening,” Louis says, finally turning back to the agent. He can feel the strange man’s eyes boring into him, like a physical pressure on his back.

“We have reason to believe that this, uh, this man,” the agent pauses, looking hesitantly at the man in the blanket, “is not, well, human.”

Louis whips around again, marching toward the table to get a better look at the not-human. The strange creature cowers a bit, and Louis feels a bit sorry for him. He must be unbelievably frightened, if he really is an alien. Oh, fuck, Louis is very possibly in the same room as a real alien.

“He was discovered in a wreck in the woods about twenty miles north of the state border,” the agent says, “in an aircraft that is unlike anything we have ever seen.”

Louis nods, pulling out a chair across the table from the alien, sitting down and studying his face. The alien peers back at him just as curiously, until the agent speaks again and they both jump.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” the agent says, shifting into Louis’s periphery. “In your research, have you ever come across anything like this?”

“Can’t say I have,” Louis says, laying his palms flat on the table in front of himself. The alien watches him blankly, eyes flicking between Louis’s face and his hands where his fingers are spread loosely on the mahogany beneath them.

No one speaks for a long moment. Louis doesn’t take his eyes off the alien as he gets up and rounds the table, pulling out the chair to the alien’s left and sitting down slowly, facing him.

“Hello,” he says softly, nodding to the alien. The alien nods back slightly, confused. “Can you understand me?”

The alien blinks at him, and Liam scoffs from somewhere behind him. “Of course he can’t understand you, Lou-” he cuts off when the alien makes a strangled sort of noise, the whole room quieting immediately.

“Sorry?” Louis says softly, bowing his head minutely toward the strange man.

“‘Rry,” the alien echoes quietly, watching Louis’s mouth. “‘Rry?”

Louis can’t help but smile a bit, watching the alien attempt to communicate. “Do you have a name?”

“Rry,” the alien says again, a bit more determinedly. It seems to be the one thing he’s latched on to. “Aw-rry?”

Louis grins, nodding slowly. He glances over his shoulder at Liam, who looks awestruck. “That sounded like Harry,” Liam says, frowning. “Let’s call it Harry.”

Louis turns back to the alien, smiling comfortingly at him. “Harry? Can we call you Harry?”

The alien just blinks at him, mouth shaping the words silently. Louis touches the alien’s arm over his blanket, drawing his attention to himself, and says the name again. It seems to click in his head, and the alien perks up.

“Harry,” he says, touching his own face. “Harry?”

“Harry,” Louis confirms, pulling his hand away and touching his own face. “Louis.”

“Louis,” Harry says, touching Louis’s face too. His fingers are freezing, but Louis does his best not to jerk away. 

“Louis,” Louis says, “yes.”

“Yes,” Harry says, slowly, cautiously. He touches his own face again with the hand not touching Louis’s face and repeats, “Harry, Louis, yes?”

“Yes,” Louis chuckles, taking gentle hold of Harry’s fingers and pulling them away from his face. “Do you know where you are?” he asks, gesturing broadly around the room. 

Harry nods quickly, the movement jerky and unnatural. “Earth.”

Louis looks up at the agent, who looks startled. Liam coughs loudly behind him and Louis turns around, flashing him a worried glance.

“Earth,” Harry says again, and when Louis turns around, Harry gestures the way Louis did a moment ago. He makes sure Louis understands, and then touches his own face again. “Sorry.”

Louis frowns, shaking his head. “You’re not from Earth?”

Harry copies him, shaking his head quickly. “Sorry.”

Louis chuckles, shaking his head again. “The word you’re looking for is _no_ , not sorry,” he says. 

“No,” Harry says, like he’s committing it to memory. “Earth, no.”

“Earth, no,” Louis mutters under his breath, turning to look at Liam again. Liam looks a mixture between passing out and screaming, and Louis grins.

“Unless this is a hoax,” the other agent sighs, looking tiredly at Louis, “I’d say we have a confirmed case of extraterrestrial contact.”

Louis can’t help but cheer, startling poor Harry nearly out of his skin. Louis pets his hand quickly in apology, and then rushes to where Liam and the other agent are now conferring.

“So what do we do?” Louis says, trying to not seem overeager. “Study the aircraft? Run tests? Are we allowed to run tests? What kind of rights do aliens have?” he wonders, earning himself a slap on the arm from Liam.

“Can you shut up? First we need to figure out what the hell it is, and where it came from,” Liam whispers, like Harry might be listening. “And then we need to figure out how to get rid of it.”

“We’ll study it, yes,” the other agent says, watching Harry over Louis’s shoulder. “We need to learn more about it. It clearly knows where it is, it must have some knowledge of Earth, more than we have about wherever it came from,” he figures.

“We?” Louis says, resisting the urge to jump up and down. “Is this- I mean, am I being assigned to this case?”

“As far as I’m concerned, this case is all yours,” the other agent shrugs. “You’re the only one here that seems more excited than terrified.”

Louis doesn’t hold back his little victory dance, earning himself another slap and an embarrassed grunt from Liam. “Thank you, sir,” Louis grins, dutifully ignoring Liam. “I will do my absolute best to figure this out.”

“I trust you will,” the agent smiles tightly. “Try to start by communicating with it. See if it’ll tell you how far it came, or… why it’s wearing a dress?”

“Got it,” Louis grins, clapping his hands and turning on his heel to go back to where the alien is sitting. 

“Oh, and Mr. Tomlinson,” the agent says, “it doesn’t leave this building, yeah? Not until we determine whether or not it is dangerous.”

Louis flashes him a thumbs up and turns around, finding Harry standing next to the chair he had been sitting in. He’s tall; not too terribly so, but definitely a good few inches taller than Louis. He’s lankier than most humans Louis has ever seen, with massive hands and massive bare feet. He could almost pass for human, Louis thinks, if he saw him on the street, except for his wide, alarmingly green eyes and his strange, unsettling presence. 

He’s shed the blanket in his seat, and as he’s standing up, Louis can see that he is in fact wearing what appears to be a loose fitting dress, made of some sort of thick material. It has full length sleeves and a round neckline, and it cuts off just below his knees, pale gray in color. He’s not wearing anything besides, aside from a good number of scratches and bruises on the visible skin of his legs. Louis supposes that means his anatomy must be nearly identical to a human’s, if he bruises the same way.

Harry looks worried, but when Louis smiles at him, he relaxes slightly. Louis picks up his blanket and helps him drape it over his shoulders again, remembering how cold his fingers had been, and then guides him back into his chair.

“What should I do?” Liam says, approaching slowly. Harry turns to look at him and Liam flinches, standing stock still like Harry might attack him.

“Some paper please, Liam,” Louis says, pleased with the authority he’s been given. “And some pens.”

Liam nods confusedly and sets off, pushing out of the conference room to presumably go gather the supplies from one of the offices down the hall.

Louis gives Harry his full attention, smiling at him until Harry smiles hesitantly back. He touches his own face, making sure Harry is watching him as he says, “Louis, Earth.”

Harry copies him, bring his hands up to touch his own cheeks. “Harry, no.”

Louis laughs softly, shaking his head. “I am from Earth,” he says slowly, watching Harry mouth the words like he’s trying to understand. “Where are you from?”

Harry shakes his head, looking panicked. Louis gets the feeling he knows what Louis is asking, but he doesn’t know how to answer him.

“He doesn’t have a name for where he’s from,” Louis says, accepting the paper and pens from Liam when he hands them across the table. He gives a sheet of paper to Harry and uncaps a pen for him, showing him how to hold it in his hand.

He takes a sheet of paper for himself and another pen, drawing Earth to the best of his ability. Harry watches him, catching on quickly, and draws a picture of something Louis has never seen before.

It’s a planet, obviously, but not anything like any planet Louis has ever learned about. It’s detailed, Harry’s drawing, and even though it’s done with a clumsy hand in plain black ink, Louis gets the feeling it’s exactly what Harry intends for it to look like.

“The hell is that,” Liam mutters, watching over Harry’s shoulder as he draws. Louis turns to look at him and shrugs, turning over his paper to start writing on the clean side. He writes out a few of the words Harry has learned and a few he should learn for basic communication, and gets to work teaching him about the earthly things he doesn’t understand. Liam ends up falling asleep on the other end of the table and the other agents filter out slowly, but Harry learns quickly, and Louis doesn’t stop until the sun is coming up and one of the agents from before comes in to tell him to bring Harry somewhere that no one will see him, and to keep him a secret from everyone that doesn’t absolutely have to know.

-

Niall finds him on the floor of their office at 9am, teaching Harry about how pets work and showing him pictures of his own cat from when he was a kid, Stuffy.

“Hello,” Niall says, dropping into his chair and giving Harry a friendly wave, like he notices nothing strange about the situation. “Tommo, any idea why Liam called me 17 times between 2 and 3 in the morning?” he asks, sipping at the mug of coffee in his hands.

Louis looks at Harry and then up at Niall, and then back at Harry. Harry just frowns, and Louis turns back to Niall.

“Niall, are you sure there aren’t any other questions you’d like to ask at the moment?”

“Uh,” Niall shrugs, giving Harry a once over. “Did we get a new partner?”

Louis pinches at the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at Harry. Harry giggles quietly, and Louis climbs to his feet to go smack some sense into Niall.

“Look at him,” Louis says, gesturing to Harry. Niall looks, and Harry cocks his head and stares right back. Niall shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing up at Louis.

“Uh?”

“Liam woke me up at 2am screaming at me to get into the office. When I got here, _he_ was here, wearing that same dress, and a blanket. That guy who works up in the offices we aren’t allowed in, Ben what’s-his-name, and all the other important dickheads were there. They found him in an aircraft wreck in Pennsylvania. The aircraft was completely foreign, with technology unlike anything we’ve seen on Earth before. This creature - we’re calling him Harry - is not human. We don’t know where he came from or what exactly he is, but he’s not from this planet. He’s from a planet nobody has a name for or recognizes at all, and he is incredibly, almost scarily intelligent. In the past few hours he has become comfortably conversational, if not hesitantly fluent, in basic English. We don’t know a lot about him yet, but forensics is going to be running tests throughout the next few days. Niall, do you know what this means?”

Niall blinks slowly and turns back to Harry, studying him for another moment. “Holy _shit_ ,” he shrieks suddenly, sending Harry nearly tumbling over backwards. “An alien! Louis! He’s a _fucking_ alien!”

“Shh,” Louis slaps Niall’s arm, giving him a look. “Try not to kill him, aye? Be gentle, and quiet. He’s nervous.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Niall says giddily, getting down on the floor with them when Louis sits back down next to Harry. “What can he do?”

“What can he do?” Louis rolls his eyes, “he doesn’t have fucking powers, Niall.”

“Well, I don’t know!” Niall hisses, “I just woke up twenty minutes ago! This could be a dream for all I know!”

Harry looks terribly confused, staring at Louis helplessly. Louis reaches over to touch Niall’s cheek, making sure Harry is watching when he says, firmly, “Niall.”

“The fuck?” Niall grunts, batting Louis’s hand away. 

“That’s how he learns names,” Louis explains, nodding at Harry as if to tell him to go on.

“Niall,” Harry repeats, reaching out to touch Niall’s face. He brings his hand back quickly to touch his own face, giving Niall a friendly smile. “Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” Niall says, watching Harry for a moment. “So what do we do with him?”

“Learn about him,” Louis says, handing Harry his phone to play with. Harry has been absolutely fascinated by the touch screen since Louis pulled it out three hours ago. “Try and figure out where he came from, and why he’s here. Teach him enough about Earth that he’ll be able to assimilate and communicate.”

“Okay,” Niall says skeptically, watching Harry scroll through Twitter on Louis’s phone, amazed at the pictures and words. “Do you maybe think we shouldn’t be teaching him all about Earth?”

“Why?” Louis frowns, taking the phone back and opening up a Google Image search for house cats, so Harry can continue with their previous lesson. 

“In case, I don’t know, he’s going try and destroy the world, or something?” Niall says, watching uncomfortably as Harry coos in gibberish over the pictures he’s seeing.

“Niall, look at him, he’s harmless,” Louis says, smiling as Harry scoots closer to show him a particularly cute cat he found. “If anything, he ended up here by accident, not because he has a nefarious ulterior motive,” he reasons.

“I just think we need to be careful, is all,” Niall shrugs, getting up and walking back to his desk. “So like, is he our case? Are we in charge of him?”

“Yup,” Louis hums, taking the phone back and standing up as well. “He’s top secret. Totally confidential. He does not leave this office, literally or by word of mouth, understood?”

“Aye aye, boss,” Niall says, turning on his laptop and watching Harry stumble to his feet on his long, gangly legs. “So I guess we were wrong, eh? The government actually hasn’t been hiding aliens from us all this time,” he chuckles.

“We’re the government, Niall, and now we’re hiding aliens from everyone else,” Louis says, pulling a chair he stole from another office up to his desk so Harry can sit next to him.

“Harry’s an alien,” Harry says, grinning at Niall. 

“Harry’s an odd ball,” Niall offers, shaking his head at his laptop.

“Odd ball?” Harry frowns, looking over at Louis in confusion.

“I’m surprised and, frankly, a little offended by your lack of excitement over this, Niall,” Louis says. “There’s a _literal_ alien sitting in our office right now, and just yesterday you were moping about doubting yourself. Where’s all that typical Niall energy?”

“Hasn’t hit me yet,” Niall shrugs. “Gimme until about 4am when I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and come running back here to make sure he’s real.”

Louis laughs and turns back to Harry, launching into an explanation of why he wouldn’t be able to talk to a cat like he can talk to Louis. Harry listens raptly, and eventually Niall joins in as well, and by the end of the day, Louis is dead tired and Harry has soaked up every bit of information Louis has given him.

They make a bed for him out of cushions from the sofa in the lounge area that was too big for them to get into their office, and it takes Harry a bit to figure out, but eventually he settles in and goes right to sleep.

“I just feel like we shouldn’t leave him here all alone,” Louis says as he and Niall let themselves out, locking the door just to be sure no one will discover Harry before they come back.

“Well short of sleeping on the floor with him, I don’t know what we could do,” Niall says.

“Should I?” Louis worries, ignoring Niall’s eye roll. “Like, what if he needs me? What if he wakes up and has to pee and doesn’t know how to work the toilet?”

“You showed him the Pentatonix evolution of Beyonce, but you didn’t show him how to work the toilet?” Niall asks incredulously.

“Priorities, Niall!” Louis hisses, glancing back at the door. “Fuck it, I’m staying. If I give you my key will you make sure my flat is locked up for me?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Niall sighs, swiping the keys out of Louis’s hand. “Get some sleep, weirdo.”

“Night, Nialler,” Louis sings, letting himself back into the office quietly. He drags in a few more cushions from the lounge and makes himself a bed on the opposite side of the office from Harry. It’s a long night, but he knows it would have been longer if he had gone home and worried about Harry from there, instead.

-

After a week with no breakthroughs as far as where Harry came from or what to do with him, Louis decides to take some more liberties with Harry’s earthly experiences.

The most earthly thing Louis can think of, of course, is tea.

He spends the morning in the department store downtown buying some simple outfits in Harry’s size, which is mostly skinny jeans and t-shirts. Harry hates it, so used to his usual dress, but he seems to believe that whatever Louis says is law, and doesn’t fight him.

He’s not quite sure who approved him to take Harry out of the office and into the city to his favorite coffeeshop, but from the second they walk in, he wishes they hadn’t. Harry is far too overwhelmed by all of the sights and sounds and smells and people that he can’t even begin to act like a human, drawing more attention than Louis even thought possible. If he thought Harry trying to stick himself to the side of the tube on the way here was odd, it’s nothing compared to the way he stares in blatant and undisguised horror at every person and thing inside the coffeeshop.

“Harry,” Louis hisses, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him off to the side, where hopefully Harry will draw less attention to himself. “You need to be cool right now.”

Harry just looks at him, looking confused and overwhelmed. People are still staring, which is unfortunate, but Louis kinda gets it. Harry is inhumanly good looking, by human standards, nearly aesthetically perfect in every way. That, and the fact that he’s acting like a newborn deer in the headlights of a freight train, might make for a bit of a spectacle.

“Don’t stare at people,” Louis says, voice hushed. “It’s okay to look at them, but don’t stare. Just try to act like them, yeah? Do what I do, and what they do, and try to blend in,” he says.

Harry nods, breathing like he’s trying to psyche himself up. Louis just grins at him and shakes his head, taking his wrist again and leading him to the line. 

The shop isn’t overly fancy, not like those hipster places in the rest of the city. This place is nice, warm and cozy but not extremely so, just perfect for someone like Louis. Harry, even doing his absolute best to blend in, still sticks out like a sore thumb. He doesn’t stare at anyone, thankfully, but he watches intensely, like a child in a zoo. 

There’s a couple in line ahead of them, a man and a woman, holding hands. Harry keeps looking back and forth between them and Louis, a deep frown on his face, until finally Louis nudges him.

“What?” he whispers, frowning when Harry meets his eyes.

Harry gestures vaguely to the couple, their hands linked between them. Louis cocks his head as he thinks of a way to explain, but before he can Harry slides his hand into his own and locks their fingers.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, startled, pulling his hand away. Harry jumps and looks at him, just shaking his head a few times like he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Why?” Harry whispers, nodding to the couple’s hands again. Louis huffs a little and shrugs, stepping forward when the line starts to move.

“They’re a couple,” he says, taking low and close to Harry so no one else will hear. “They’re together, like, they go together,” he tries.

“Like us?” Harry asks, cocking his head. Louis flushes, looking away.

“No, like, people are couples when they like each other, and they do things with each other and, other things,” he mumbles.

“Niall and you?” Harry asks again, just desperately trying to understand.

“Ew, no,” Louis chuckles. “Let’s order and sit down, and then I’ll explain. It’s complicated,” he says.

He orders himself a tea, and gets Harry a cup of coffee with a lot of cream and sugar, mostly because he doesn’t know what he’ll like. Harry has been eating a steady diet of vending machine muffins and peanut butter crackers during his stay on Earth and he doesn’t seem any worse for wear because of it, so Louis supposes he can probably eat anything.

They get a table in the back, where Harry can comfortably stare at anyone he pleases and not get caught. He watches Louis sip at his tea a few times, and then picks up his coffee questioningly.

“That’s coffee,” Louis tells him. “It’s bitter, usually, but I had them make it sweet for you.”

Harry peers into his cup and then sticks his tongue out, dipping it into the coffee. Louis snorts, swatting at Harry’s arm. 

“No, like this,” he says, taking a careful sip of his tea to demonstrate. Harry nods and copies him, pulling away with a squeal.

“Ouch,” he whines, sticking his tongue out for Louis to see.

“You burned yourself,” Louis giggles, unable to not be fond. “You have to be careful with hot drinks.”

Harry looks offended at the cup in his hands, but he brings it back up to try again anyway. He’s more careful this time, takes a much smaller sip, but he still pulls away with a grimace. “Yuck,” he says, putting the cup down and shaking his head.

“That’s okay, a lot of people don’t like coffee,” Louis says. “Do you want to try my tea? It’s a bit different,” he says.

Harry nods, taking the cup from Louis’s hands gingerly. When their fingers brush in the transaction, Louis notices just how big Harry’s hands actually are. They’re so nearly human, but just a little bit off, and Louis can’t even tell what it is that makes them different.

Harry has a similar reaction to the tea as he did the coffee, pulling a face and pushing the cup back across the table to Louis. “Don’t like it,” he says, wiping at his mouth with his hands.

“What do you like, then?” Louis asks curiously. “What do you eat at home?”

Harry shrugs, pushing the cup of coffee toward Louis as well. “I don’t know the words for it. Things that grow from the ground, and that come from the ground,” he says.

“Like plants?” Louis asks.

“Kind of,” Harry says thoughtfully. “But we eat them differently, and they look different. Everything is so different there,” he explains.

“It must be somewhat similar, since you evolved in what seems to be a similar way,” Louis reasons. “Jesus, you’re every biologist’s wet dream. Tell me more about your home, what are the other creatures like? What kind of places do you live in? What’s your weather like?” he wonders.

Harry shifts uncomfortably, looking down at the table. “Um, different. Very different,” is all he has to offer.

“Different how?” Louis pushes. “Describe it to me.”

“It looks different, and we don’t live in the air like here, and, I don’t know,” Harry mutters.

Louis frowns, watching him for a moment. “Do you not want to talk about it?” he asks, confused.

“Sad,” Harry breathes, turning his head and looking away. Louis’s heart jolts a little and he feels awful, forcing Harry to talk about home when he’s probably aching to go back.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching out to touch Harry’s hand. “I didn’t think of how hard this must be for you.”

“It’s okay,” Harry smiles, clearly relieved that Louis isn’t going to ask anymore. “Earth is more fun to talk about, anyway.”

“For you, I’m sure,” Louis chuckles, sipping at what’s left of his tea. It’s nearly cold now, and Harry’s coffee is completely abandoned, so he decides to move on with their day. “Why don’t we go take a walk? I can show you how the city works,” he offers.

“Yes,” Harry grins, pushing out of his chair immediately. Louis chuckles and brings their cups back to the counter, and then leads Harry out of the cafe. They’ve barely made it a block before Harry grabs Louis’s wrist, looking worried.

“You never told me about the hands,” he says, pointing to another couple ahead of them, walking with their hands linked between them.

“Oh,” Louis frowns, watching them for a second. “Okay, well, when two people like each other a lot, they date. When you date someone, you do things with them that you don’t do with other people, like touching each other more and spending way more time together,” he explains.

“But we aren’t dating?” Harry asks. “And you aren’t dating Niall?”

“No, I’m not dating you or Niall,” Louis laughs. “I’m not dating anyone right now, actually.”

“Why not?” Harry asks, nudging him gently. 

“Dunno, don’t have time to meet people, I guess,” Louis shrugs. “You have to get to know someone before you date them.”

“Oh,” Harry nods, falling quiet. They walk for a few more minutes, before Harry perks up again. “So why aren’t we dating?” he asks.

Louis laughs, shaking his head at Harry. “You have to have special feelings for someone if you date them,” he says.

“What kind of special feelings?” Harry asks. “What do they feel like?”

“Like, they make you really happy, and kinda nervous,” Louis hums. “And you’ll want to kiss them, and be near them, among other things,” he says, not sure how much detail he should go into. Harry is brilliant, of course, but Louis almost feels like he’s talking to a child when he speaks to him, like he has to preserve his innocence.

“Like making babies with them?” Harry asks bluntly, blinking his big, owlish eyes at Louis.

Louis chokes on nothing, laughing loudly. “Yes, kinda,” he giggles. “Except here we don’t always do it to, you know, make babies,” he says. Harry looks particularly bamboozled by that, but Louis ignores him. “Let’s not talk about this in public,” he laughs. “We can discuss it more later if you want.”

They spend the rest of the day walking around the city, and Harry learns all about books and bookshops and public gardens and apartment buildings. Most of what Louis tells him, though, he seems to already know, like he can sense the information before it’s said out loud. It makes Louis’s job a bit easier, he supposes, but it is a bit unsettling when Harry actually knows more than Louis about any particular topic.

By the time they head back to the office, Harry has learned just about all there is to know about the city, and has even explained a few things to Louis. There are still some fundamental societal things that he can’t seem to grasp right away, but other than that, Louis thinks he may be more intelligent than any creature on Earth.

Harry’s makeshift bed is still set up on the floor in the corner of Louis’s office, but Louis doesn’t stay overnight anymore. After all, he does have a flat that he’s actually paying for, and he doesn’t enjoy sleeping on the floor of his office too terribly much.

“Where do you go?” Harry asks, as he’s collecting his stuff from the office. Niall is already gone, probably either drunk or already asleep.

“Home,” Louis says, pulling his bag over his shoulder. “To my flat.”

Harry frowns, looking down at his shitty little excuse for a bed. “Can I come?”

“I mean,” Louis shrugs, “I don’t have a bed for you, or really anywhere for you to sleep,” he winces.

“Where do you sleep?” Harry asks.

“In my bed,” Louis says, smiling slightly.

“You just said you don’t have a bed,” Harry says, looking affronted.

“I only have one bed,” Louis laughs, shaking his head. “For me,” he clarifies.

“Is that not enough for two people?” Harry frowns.

“I mean, yeah, probably, but,” Louis shrugs, trying to think of a way to explain it. “On Earth, or, at least here, you really only share a bed with someone that you’re in a relationship with, or that you know really well,” he says.

“I know you better than anyone,” Harry reasons. “You’re the only person I know, actually.”

“Well, yeah,” Louis says, frowning at himself. “But I mean, like, that’s not really how it works.”

Harry just looks at him helplessly, shaking his head confusedly. Louis doesn’t know how to explain it in a way that will make sense, but at the end of the day, he supposes it’s not really that big of a deal.

“Alright, fine,” he sighs eventually. “You can come to my house. But you’re sleeping on the sofa,” he warns.

Harry grins, following Louis happily out to his car. Louis explains to him the whole ride to his flat how the car works, what inside of it makes it move and how it needs gas to run. Harry is utterly fascinated, but by the time they pull up outside of Louis’s building, he’s already explaining exactly how an engine works.

“So, this is my place,” Louis says, throwing the door open and gesturing around his flat. It’s not very big, but it’s good enough for just him; one bedroom, one bathroom, and an open kitchen and living room. Harry wanders around slowly, admiring the pictures and decorations hanging on the walls, inspecting Louis’s furniture. 

“You can have the sofa,” Louis says, gesturing to the only slightly ratty, worn out sofa pushed up against the wall. “I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets,” he says, depositing his shoes and bag by the door and setting off to his bedroom to find some spare bedding.

Harry follows him quietly, looking around his room. “How strange,” Harry breathes, pulling open one of Louis’s dresser drawers and peeking inside. “You live here by yourself?”

“Yeah,” Louis shrugs. “It’s pretty common for people to live by themselves here when they’re grown,” he says.

Harry just hums quietly, wandering over to Louis’s closet and peeking in there, as well. “You have so many clothes,” he comments. “What do you do with all of them?”

“Wear them, mostly,” Louis chuckles. “It’s good to have more because they get dirty, and if you have some extra outfits you can go longer without washing them,” he says.

Harry makes another noncommittal noise and wanders out of the room, heading for the kitchen to investigate. 

Louis finds a couple of extra blankets in his closet and grabs the extra pillow off his bed, bringing them to the couch and setting them up neatly for Harry. Harry hovers over his shoulder and watches, frowning when Louis looks up at him.

“I sleep there?” Harry asks, pointing at the couch, looking vaguely disapproving. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Louis winces. “Maybe we can get you an air mattress or something if you end up having to stay here long, but for now this is the best I can do for you,” he says.

Harry nods and pokes at his pillow, peeling back the blankets and sitting down gingerly.

“Do you want to borrow some pajamas? Clothes meant for sleeping in,” he says, before Harry can ask. “They might be more comfortable than sleeping in jeans.”

He brings Harry a pair of joggers and a massive t-shirt he has leftover from two ex-boyfriends ago, and then Harry curls up on the sofa still looking a bit confused as to why he can’t come to Louis’s bed with him.

Louis leaves his bedroom door open just in case, though he’s not sure what Harry might need him for in the middle of the night at this point. He falls asleep uneasily, for some reason, knowing Harry is just in the next room, but Harry doesn’t wake him up at all.

-

He wakes up in the morning still strangely exhausted, but he’s relieved to see Harry still fast asleep on the sofa when he makes his way to the kitchen. It’s a coffee morning, he thinks, instead of his usual tea. He puts a pot on to brew and then heads to the bathroom to get ready for work.

The beeping of the coffee maker telling him the pot is ready wakes Harry, and Louis comes back to the kitchen just in time to watch him stand up off the sofa like he’s injured, hobbling over to him at the worktop.

“Morning, sunshine,” Louis hums, chuckling at the way Harry whines in response. “Everything okay?”

“My body hurts,” Harry pouts, wincing as he stretches out his spine. “Earth’s gravity is not very nice.”

“Somehow I think it’s less to do with gravity and more to do with sleeping on a couch,” Louis shrugs. “That’s what you get for insisting to sleep here.”

Harry looks hurt, backing a tiny step away from Louis. “Why did you let me sleep on it if you knew it was going to hurt me?” he asks, like Louis did it on purpose.

“Oh, come off it,” Louis chuckles, pulling a mug out of the cupboard and pouring a cup of coffee for himself. “I didn't know you had the back of an eighty year old man, you look quite young,” he says.

Harry just blinks at him, looking confused but like he’s still too offended about the sofa thing to ask for clarification.

“Wait, how old are you?” Louis says, turning to look at him. 

“What does that mean?” Harry asks, crossing his arms over his chest uncomfortably. Louis is so fascinated by the way he’s picking up on such human things.

“How long have you been alive?” Louis asks, though he’s positive they don’t use the same units of time measurement on Harry’s planet.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles. “My whole life, I guess.”

Louis can’t help but laugh, setting his cup down on the worktop and going to the fridge for some milk. “Very helpful, thank you,” he hums, shaking his head at Harry’s stupidly innocent answer.

“What is that?” Harry asks, watching Louis pour a splash of milk into his coffee.

“Coffee,” Louis says, holding up the mug for Harry to see. “You tried it yesterday and you didn’t like it,” he reminds.

“That looks different, though,” Harry says, peering into the mug.

“It’s made differently,” Louis explains. “Do you want to try some?”

Harry nods, so Louis gets another mug from the cupboard and pours about half a cup for him. “Here, you can experiment with it. Add some milk and sugar until it tastes good,” he says, bringing the mug, milk and sugar to the kitchen table for Harry.

Harry sits down, eyeing the milk and sugar wearily before picking up the mug and taking a sip of it, still black. His eyes widen and Louis thinks he’s going to say he hates it, but then Harry grins.

“This is good,” he says, amazed. He takes another sip, longer, and Louis screws his face up.

“That’s disgusting, you’re drinking black coffee,” he says. “You really aren’t human.”

“Do humans not drink black coffee?” Harry asks, drinking his entire mug in a matter of seconds and handing it back to Louis for more.

“Most of us don’t,” Louis says, pouring what’s left of the pot into Harry’s mug. “But I suppose it’s not the most unusual thing you could do. Be careful, though, this’ll make you crazy,” he chuckles.

“Crazy?” Harry questions, staring up at Louis over the rim of his cup.

“Coffee has caffeine in it, which gives you a lot of energy. Some people get the shakes if they drink too much.”

“Oh,” Harry frowns, holding out his hand. It’s remarkably steady, but Louis supposes the coffee hasn’t had time to kick in yet.

They take a few minutes to finish their drinks and then Louis goes to get dressed, while Harry puts on the same clothes from yesterday. He really needs to get Harry a bigger wardrobe, he thinks, so that he doesn’t have to wear the same thing every day.

Louis comes back to the kitchen when he’s ready to go, finding Harry dressed and ready and vibrating in the kitchen.

“Is this the shakes?” Harry asks nervously, holding out one trembling hand.

“Yes, that’s it,” Louis laughs, rolling his eyes at Harry. 

“Oh,” Harry says, bouncing on his heels a bit. “I like it,” he smiles, even though he looks like he’s about ready to explode.

“Weirdo,” Louis says, grabbing his keys and bag by the door. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” Harry says excitedly, following Louis out the door and down the corridor to the lift. “What are we going to do today?”

“Not quite sure,” Louis says. “I think forensics has some things they wanna try with you, so we can see what exactly you really are,” he says.

“I’m Harry,” Harry frowns, catching Louis’s eye. “I thought we already knew that?”

“Yes, you’re Harry, but you’re not a human, and we want to learn about you,” Louis explains. “We don’t know where you’re from or if you’re like us, though I suspect you are,” he says. Harry doesn’t say anything, and when Louis looks over, he’s gnawing on his lip nervously. “Is that okay?” Louis asks. “If we do some tests and things?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, too quickly. “I want to learn about me too.”

Louis smiles at him and opens his car door for him, helping him in so he doesn’t collapse on his shaky, gangly knees. He’s hoping that whatever tests they do won’t be too invasive, and that they don’t determine that Harry has to leave immediately, or something. Louis’s grown quite fond of him, and he almost kind of hopes he can stay here forever. That’s not feasible, Louis knows, and at some point they’re gonna find a way to send Harry home where he belongs. 

-

They spend the entire day in forensics, which is more than a little exhausting for everyone involved. They take a blood sample from Harry’s arm first, which nearly sends him into a tailspin, and which sets the mood for the rest of the day. Louis doesn’t leave Harry’s side, and it’s not only because Harry doesn’t want him to.

There’s a lot of poking and prodding, questions and exercises and things that are probably unnecessary. They x-ray him, strip him down to his pants and examine him, comb through his hair with gloved fingers and stick sharp metal objects in his mouth that look like they’ve come from the darkest dentist’s office on Earth. Harry does his absolute best to smile through it, bless him, but every now and again he shoots Louis a worried glance and Louis finds himself having to intervene more than once.

“I just don’t see why you have to hurt him,” he’s all but shouting, glaring at the man holding a pin over Harry’s finger, trying to prick him.

“We just want to see if his blood oxidizes in a similar way to ours,” the scientist explains tiredly, clearly doing his best to stay calm. “We want to see if he reacts differently.”

“Look at him, he’s terrified,” Louis spits, gesturing to Harry’s face. He’s shaking, but at this point it’s not because of the coffee. “Can you at least give him a break?”

“Mr. Tomlinson, with all due respect, I’d like you to please stop obstructing our research before I have to call for you to be removed,” the scientist sighs.

“I’m not fucking going anywhere,” Louis growls. “You haven't even fed him, he’s been here for four hours! He may not be human but he has fucking rights,” he says. 

“Mr. Tomlinson, please,” the scientist sighs again. Louis is about ready to start a physical fight when someone touches his arm, and he whips around to find Liam and Niall behind him.

“Calm, Louis,” Liam says, giving him a look. “Why don’t you go for a lunch run and cool down a bit?”

“I’m not leaving, I’m the only one here who cares about his well-being,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“They’re not gonna kill him, Lou,” Niall chuckles. “C’mon, you know I won’t let them do anything to him, I may not be his keeper, but I’m just as invested in his well-being as you are,” he reasons.

“You only care because he’s an alien,” Louis mutters, turning around to find Harry wincing as the scientist finally pricks his finger. Louis almost explodes, but Niall grabs his wrist.

“Go get lunch,” Niall says, forcing Louis to look at him. “He’ll be fine.”

Louis loiters for another few minutes, waiting to make sure that the one pin prick is all, and they’re not going to hurt Harry again while he’s gone. Harry looks increasingly worried, though, watching him, looking about two seconds away from reaching for him like a child.

“I’m gonna get some food for everyone, okay?” Louis tells him, petting Harry’s hand comfortingly. Harry nods quickly, but he looks sick. “Do you want anything special? Everyone else is getting rocks,” he mutters bitterly.

“Whatever,” Harry says, gripping Louis’s wrist for a moment. “Be quick?”

“I’ll be back before you even know it,” Louis smiles, squeezing Harry’s hand. With that he ducks out of the lab, forcing himself not to turn back as he steps into the lift.

He goes to the McDonald’s around the corner, ordering everyone a cheeseburger and fries and somehow resisting the urge to spit in the one he’ll give to the scientist. He orders Harry a cookie as a reward for being so brave today and then speeds back to the office, bags of takeaway clutched in his hands.

“McDonald’s, classy,” Liam snorts, taking one of the bags from Louis and setting up camp on an empty table. The scientist is still watching Harry bleed, even twenty minutes later, jotting down notes.

“Okay, experiment over,” Louis mutters, wrapping Harry’s finger with a tissue and holding tight, letting the pressure stop the bleeding. “Lunch time.”

“It’s remarkable,” the scientist says, stopping Louis when he tries to lead Harry away. “He hardly even bleeds, he heals in seconds. Of course, they’re only tiny wounds, but his skin regenerates almost immediately,” he says excitedly.

“Wounds?” Louis raises his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you pricked him more than fucking once?”

“Come off it, this is an incredible discovery!” the scientist gushes. “If we can learn more about it, figure out what in his skin allows it to heal so quickly, we could copy the technology and use it medicinally on Earth!” he says. 

Louis glares at him, pulling Harry over to the food table with the hand he’s still holding. Harry is quiet as they eat, still a bit shaky, but he accepts the cookie Louis bought him with the warmest smile Louis has ever seen.

The next few hours include countless more experiments, exams that not only test Harry’s body but also Louis’s patience. Harry is exhausted from anxiety by the end of the day and Louis is exhausted from fighting for him, and as unhappy as he was with the sofa last night, Harry begs again to come back to Louis’s flat.

“You can have my bed tonight,” Louis says as he unlocks his door, leading Harry into the flat. “I’ll take the sofa. You deserve it,” he smiles tiredly.

“No,” Harry says quickly, forehead creasing with worry. “You’ll get hurt,” he says, touching Louis’s back gently. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Louis chuckles, combing his hair out of his face with his fingers. “I’ll be fine,” he assures, but Harry isn’t convinced. 

“No,” Harry says firmly, grabbing Louis’s hand. “We will both sleep in your bed.”

Louis opens his mouth to argue, but at the end of the day, he thinks he’d rather sleep in the same bed as a pretty alien than on his old, lumpy sofa. He sighs and nods, letting Harry lead him to the bedroom triumphantly. 

They change in silence, but once Louis gets his pajamas on he realizes he could use a shower quite badly. They haven’t eaten dinner yet, either, so when he sees Harry standing by the bed with a hand over his tummy, he gives him a little smile.

“Why don’t we order a pizza,” he says, leading Harry back to the living room, “and I’m gonna take a shower while we wait for it.”

Harry seems enthusiastic about the idea, having only had pizza once in the office with Niall, so Louis calls to order and then explains to Harry how to use a credit card to pay for it if it should come before Louis is out of the shower. 

He situates Harry on the sofa with the TV remote and lets him figure it out on his own, and then heads to the shower. He’s only been in for a moment when Harry bursts into the bathroom with a question about how the remote works.

“Harry!” Louis screeches, trying to hide himself with his hands behind the glass shower door. 

“What?” Harry asks, startled, blinking at Louis.

“Oh my god,” Louis mutters, blushing as he tries to collect his thoughts. “You can’t- when someone is in the shower, you shouldn’t come in,” he says. Harry just blinks at him again, looking genuinely confused. 

To his credit, his eyes don’t wander at all. He’s not playing dumb; he actually doesn’t understand why seeing someone in the shower is a bad thing. Louis is almost endeared, even though he kind of wants to scream.

“Why not?” Harry asks, taking a tiny step backwards and then forwards again, like he can’t decide what he should do.

“Because people generally don’t want you to see them naked,” Louis says, still covering himself with his hands. Harry’s eyes eventually drop to what he’s hiding, and he frowns.

“Oh, okay,” he says, still puzzled. “Um, sorry.”

“That’s okay, just give me a minute,” Louis says. Harry nods but doesn’t move, and Louis rolls his eyes. “ _Alone_ , please.”

Harry nods again and ducks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Louis sighs and lets his hands fall from his crotch, sticking his face under the spray of water and wishing for a moment that he could disappear.

Harry is just standing awkwardly outside the bathroom when Louis finally emerges, TV remote still in his hands. Louis’s hair is wet and he’s only got a towel around his waist, but Harry must deem him acceptable to approach now that he’s not actually in the shower, because he cocks his head at him immediately.

“Why don’t humans like to be seen naked?” he asks bluntly. Louis shifts uncomfortably, but Harry’s gaze doesn’t even flicker toward his towel.

“Well, humans have parts of ourselves that we like to keep private,” he says, wincing at how awkward it sounds to his own ears. “We only show them to people we really like.”

“You don’t really like me?” Harry frowns, cocking his head the other way. He’s like a puppy. Louis adores him.

“Of course I do, Harry,” Louis chuckles. “But just like the hand holding, not like that.”

“Oh,” Harry gasps, the pieces finally falling into place. “You keep your baby making bits private until you’re going to make a baby?” he says, smiling like he finally gets it.

“Oh my god,” Louis breathes, face burning. “Yes, I suppose.”

“You said once that you don’t always do it to make a baby,” Harry says, following after him when Louis escapes to his bedroom. “How does that work?”

“Um, contraceptives, usually,” Louis mutters, trying to switch off the part of him that is mortified talking about this. “Condoms, and things like that. But also sometimes people have sex with people that can’t make babies,” he says. Harry looks amazed, but before he can open his mouth and ask another embarrassing question, Louis elaborates. “Like, I only like to have sex with boys, which can’t make babies.” He could go on, but he decides Harry can infer the rest on his own.

“Oh,” Harry drawls, finally understanding. “We do that at home, too,” he says. If Louis didn’t know better, he’d think his tone was almost a bit cheeky.

He sends Harry out of the room and changes back into his pajamas, and by the time he’s done the pizza is just arriving. He allows Harry to make the transaction, since he was so excited about it, and then they settle down on the sofa with the box between them and eat.

They watch old reruns of _Friends_ , which Harry finds hilarious, and in an hour they finish off the pizza and Louis nearly falls asleep on the couch twice. 

Climbing into bed is a bit awkward, but Louis is so tired he hardly even cares. “Goodnight, Haz,” he mutters, turning his back to Harry and settling down under the covers. Harry hums his response and settles in as well, keeping eerily still while Louis drifts off. 

-

He wakes up to Harry’s body curled around his own, his chest pressed tight against Louis’s back. He has one hand resting low on Louis’s hip, and when Louis tries to wriggle away to get up, he uses it to pull him back.

Louis can’t help but smile, cuddling back into Harry’s chest just a little. It’s nice, really, to wake up like this, tucked up in someone’s arms, warm and safe. The only problem: Harry is an alien, and he’s not staying on this planet forever. Louis and the rest of the FBI are actively working to figure out how to send him home, and until then, all of this is only temporary.

He turns over in Harry’s arms, facing him now. Harry’s nose crinkles a little and Louis smiles, resisting the sudden, overwhelming urge to lean up and kiss it. 

“Harry,” he hums, poking Harry’s stomach gently. Harry grunts but doesn’t wake, so Louis pokes him a little harder.

Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly, but his eyes focus just about immediately. “Good morning,” Louis says softly, “you need to let go of me.”

Harry whines and pulls him closer, snuggling him into his chest. “I like this,” he says, voice but a rasp against Louis’s neck. “You’re warm, and I like the way you smell.”

Louis blushes, laughing softly as he pulls away. “Cuddling is always nice, but it’s time to get up,” he says, sitting up and stretching his arms out.

“Can we cuddle again?” Harry asks hopefully, staring up at him from the pillow when Louis turns around to look at him. “Later?”

“Later, maybe,” Louis nods, giving his cheek a playful pat and then climbing out of bed. 

He reminds himself yet again on the walk to the bathroom that Harry is not his to keep. Louis is literally just his babysitter until the government finds out what the hell to do with him, and until then, Louis is just keeping him safe and healthy. Harry’s going to go home at some point, and Louis doesn’t get to keep him. He wishes he could tell his heart to stop hurting so much at the idea.

He makes coffee again and the smell lures Harry out of bed, and they both drink a mug while leaning against the worktop in Louis’s kitchen. Harry gets dressed in record speed and they set off to the office, hopefully not for another day of lab tests.

Harry is so positive, so happy and charming and pleasant, Louis hardly knows what he’s going to do without him. He makes Louis’s day so much more fun, the two of them and Niall cooped up in the office all day just talking and laughing and pretending to be productive. It’s so nice, achingly so, and Harry fits so well into their little routine. A part of Louis hopes they’ll never find a way to send him home, and he’ll get to stay here like this forever.

-

It’s been two months, 60 entire days, and still nobody knows where the fuck Harry came from or how the fuck to get him back there.

They’ve had a few more days in forensics running tests that freak Harry out and make Louis somewhat murderous. Harry cooperates fully, because of course he does, and lets the scientists do whatever they want, even when Louis tries to stop them. It gets to a point that Louis isn’t allowed into the lab anymore, and Harry just finds him in his office after a couple of hours of testing and cuddles up extra close to him in bed later. 

That’s a thing that’s happened, too; Harry sleeps in his bed every night. Louis feels bad telling him to stop, mostly because it’s been going on so long that ending it would confuse Harry beyond what Louis is capable of explaining to him. Harry just craves his attention and affection, which is so very human for someone that isn’t actually a human. He’ll never admit it out loud, but Louis quite likes the attention as well. It’s nice to fall asleep and wake up wrapped in someone’s arms, even if that someone isn’t his to keep.

But the thing is, maybe Harry will end up being his to keep. The longer they go with no breakthroughs as to where Harry is from or how he can go home Louis starts to think that maybe he’ll just be stuck here forever, with Louis. He knows it’s selfish and mean to want it, but he can’t help but be hopeful every time Harry snores into the back of his neck so loudly in the middle of the night that it wakes Louis up.

Everyone at work loves Harry too, Louis has come to notice. He has so many friends, so many people that want to be his friend, even those that don’t know he’s an alien. It was upsetting, at first, to see Harry chatting in the break room with people that have never even looked in Louis’s direction, until Louis realized that he’s the only one Harry is going to go home with, he’s the only one Harry trusts with his life, he’s the only one that taught Harry how to survive here and continues to help him do so even now.

Harry’s a better person than anyone Louis knows, and he’s not even a person. He’s generous and forgiving and sweet and funny, and he’s so charming and easy to love. People keep telling Louis he did a great job with him, like he raised him, or something, but Louis knows that it wasn’t him. Harry is kind and gentle and lovely all on his own; he didn’t need Louis to teach him that.

Louis doesn’t need to teach him a lot anymore, actually. He’s brilliant, knows so many things that Louis doesn’t even know. He has so many useless facts about Earth and science and weather and Louis can’t figure out how he learned it, if he’s been reading up behind Louis’s back or if he’s got some kind of alien superior intelligence.

“Louis,” Harry says, startling him out of his lunch-induced coma. “Lou, I have to ask you something.”

“Hm?” Louis hums, turning to look over at him. Harry is on the floor beside the sofa with Louis’s laptop perched on his knees, while Louis takes up mostly the entire sofa with his body, stretched out and comfy. It’s Sunday, which means lazy day, which means Louis isn’t moving again today unless there’s food involved.

“How do starfish regrow their limbs?” Harry asks seriously, like it’s important to anyone other than him. 

“Um, dunno,” Louis shrugs, readjusting his head on his pillow and closing his eyes. “Science, probably.”

“Louis,” Harry whines, swatting at him. Louis wishes he never taught him that particular move. 

“Look it up, Harry, I’m not Google,” he mutters, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.

Harry huffs and taps on the keyboard a bit, typing frustratedly. Louis is surprised he didn’t ask what Google means, but he has been spending an awful lot of time on Louis’s laptop lately, he’s probably figured it out himself.

“They grow new cells,” Harry says after a moment. “Did you know that starfish babies are made by the parent starfish cutting its own arm off?”

“Cool,” Louis says, mostly ignoring him. “Thoughts on taking a nap right now?” he says, finally looking over at him again.

“You took a nap two hours ago,” Harry says, but he closes Louis’s laptop anyway and crawls up on the sofa with him.

“That’s what Sundays are for,” Louis says, letting Harry snuggle into what little space Louis has left free. “Eating, napping, and being lazy.”

“Humans,” Harry sighs, shaking his head. Louis laughs and wraps him up in his arms, taking his body heat for granted.

This isn’t an unusual position for them anymore. Louis cuddles more with Harry on any given day than he did some of his ex-boyfriends combined. Harry is just so good at cuddling, so willing to cuddle, Louis can’t resist. He rests his cheek against Harry’s head and lets himself drift off, but they only nap for about an hour before Louis’s phone ringing somewhere in the flat wakes him.

Harry doesn’t stir, even when Louis pushes him off and stands up. He runs to the kitchen and grabs his phone off the worktop, answering the call without even looking at the caller ID. 

“Hello?” he answers groggily, rubbing at his eye and walking back over to the sofa to pet Harry’s head gently.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” someone says, sounding important. Louis pulls his phone away from his ear to see who the caller is, frowning when he sees it’s someone calling from the office.

“That’s me,” he says, shuffling to his bedroom and closing the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Where is Harry right now?” the voice asks. Louis recognizes it as the agent that gave him this case in the first place, whose name Louis has since learned is Winston.

“Asleep on my sofa,” Louis says, frowning again. “Why?”

“Have you given him internet access in the last few days?” Winston asks.

“Uh, yeah, he’s been playing with my laptop,” Louis says. “Reading Wikipedia, I think.”

“Oh dear,” Winston mumbles, and then there’s the muffled sound of him talking to someone else. “Okay, don’t tell him anything is happening, but please come to my office tomorrow morning,” he says finally. 

“Is everything okay?” Louis says again, shifting uncomfortably. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve been tracking his browsing history, and we’re a bit concerned,” Winston admits.

“You hacked my computer?” Louis asks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Listen, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. Whatever he searched was done out of pure innocence and curiosity,” he says.

“I’m sure you might think so, but we need to discuss some things,” Winston says. “Please just come to my office tomorrow.”

“Alright, whatever,” Louis mutters. Winston hangs up on him and Louis actually does roll his eyes, dropping his phone on his bed and making his way back to the living room. Harry is still sleeping soundly on the sofa, but he perks up when Louis tries to slide back in beside him.

“What?” Harry says, like Louis asked him something. He’s adorable when he’s groggy and confused.

“Nothing, sorry,” Louis whispers, petting his hair comfortingly. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

Harry makes a quiet sound of assent and puts his head down, letting Louis curl up around him. Louis forgets all about Harry’s concerning internet history, drifting right back to sleep.

-

He brings Harry to his office the next day and leaves him his laptop to play with, mostly out of spite. He can’t imagine what the government thinks of Harry at this point; no matter what it is, Louis is sure it’s a mistake.

He takes the lift to Winston’s floor, realizing about halfway up that he’s never been this far. He’s not usually allowed in these offices, not needed, but now he supposes he’s one of the most important agents they have. He’s in charge of their biggest secret, and it’s a massive honor, even if they’re all a bunch of dicks.

He knocks on Winston’s door once he finds it, immediately being ushered inside by his assistant. Louis wonders when he’ll get an assistant.

“Agent Tomlinson,” Winston greets, standing up quickly. “Where is Harry?”

“In my office,” Louis frowns.

“Does he know you’re here? Did you tell him anything?” Winston asks, worried.

“I told him I was coming to talk to you, but I didn’t say about what. What is this about, anyway?” Louis asks, sitting down when Winston sits.

“Harry’s internet history has us worried,” Winston says, opening a file on his computer. “Have you had any part in these searches?”

“I told him to Google things he asked me about that I didn’t know how to explain, but other than that, no, it was all him,” Louis says. “What did he search?”

“How legal identification and passports work, how to cross international borders, why there is security at government buildings, and, most concerningly, how starfish regrow their limbs,” Winston lists. 

Louis can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “I can explain all of those,” he assures, when Winston gives him a look. “The passports and international borders thing was because he saw pictures of Mexico on TV and wanted to visit, the security thing was because he was worried about why the guards at the front desk in this building always look so mean, and the starfish was, well, just a whim, I suppose,” he shrugs. “Nothing concerning about that, I should think?”

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Winston says, slow and pained like talking to Louis is something of a physical exertion. “You’ve noticed how incredibly intelligent Harry is, yes?”

“Of course, he’s brilliant,” Louis nods. “He picks things up faster than humans could dream of.”

“Right,” Winston says. “And do you not think that he could be using that intelligence for, if you will, nefarious purposes?”

“Nefarious purposes?” Louis frowns. “What is he, a Disney villain?”

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Winston rolls his eyes, “it is clear to see that Harry has outsmarted you.”

“Outsmarted me?” Louis blinks, taken aback. “With what?”

“We think he has plans to cause damage to Earth, starting here in Washington,” Winston says. “We believe these Google searches are indicative of him beginning his research to try and terrorize humans. We don’t think it is an accident that he ended up here, and we think he’s taking advantage of your intrigue and open mind to begin sowing the seeds of his terror plot,” he admits.

Louis fish mouths for a second, absolutely flabbergasted. “He’s not a damn terrorist!” he says finally, voice a bit shrill. “He’s just curious, he’s not trying to damage anything or hurt anyone, he’s the sweetest person I know and he’s just trying to stay alive and get back home!” he argues. 

“That’s just it, Tomlinson, can’t you see? He’s _not_ a person, not at all! We know nothing about him- and that includes you. We don’t know where he’s from or what he is or what he can do that he hasn’t let us discover. He’s playing off your generosity, fooling you with a very human facade, but for all we know he could be space jelly in a skin suit!” Winston says.

“Do you hear yourself?” Louis says, laughing a little manically. “This is ridiculous! Every experiment, every ounce of research we’ve done on him concludes he’s as close to being human as he can get without actually being a human!” he says. “This is ridiculous, and such a reach,” he huffs, shaking his head and making to get up.

“We’re not reaching for anything, Tomlinson!” Winston stops him. “Trust me, do you think we’re rooting for him to be an intergalactic terrorist? Of course not! Open your eyes, Tomlinson; I know he’s become something of a friend to you but you have to realize that he’s using you, and if we don’t stop him now he’s going to become an actual problem and you’re going to wish you believed me,” he threatens.

“Fucking bullshit,” Louis shakes his head again, pushing out of his seat and backing away from the desk. 

“One week,” Winston says. “You have one week to accept this and help us do something about it, or we’re taking matters into our own hands, Mr. Tomlinson. We cannot let this spiral out of control,” Winston says.

Louis scoffs and turns away, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind himself, muttering under his breath. Harry can’t actually be an alien terrorist, can he? He’s so gentle and soft, Louis has never seen him so much as shoo a bug, let alone show signs of wanting to cause mass destruction. He’ll keep an eye out, sure, on the off chance that maybe he is just blinded by affection for the person Louis has made him think that he is, but he knows deep down that he’s right about this.

What reason could Harry possibly have for wanting to destroy Earth? What reason would any alien have? Harry came here by accident, he knows it, even though they’ve never actually discussed it. Harry gets fidgety and awkward every time Louis brings it up, so Louis has stopped bringing it up. The government probably thinks that’s a manipulation tactic as well, Louis thinks with a chuckle. No, Harry is just as sweet and kind as Louis believes he is, and the government is just reaching for conclusions so they can have a reason to get rid of him.

He’s still fuming quietly when he gets back to his office, but the very sight of Harry makes the tension in his shoulders release. He’s at Niall’s desk with him, both of them hunched over laughing at something on the screen. Louis rounds the desk to see what it is, shaking his head when he sees it’s some YouTube video.

“Aye, Tommo,” Niall greets him, leaning back in his chair and extending his neck, asking for a pat on the head like a dog. Louis gives it to him, ruffling his hair a little.

“Aye, Horan,” he says in return, eyes settling on Harry. “He’s not corrupting you, is he?” he asks with a smile.

“Yes,” Harry giggles, grinning up at Louis.

“Am not!” Niall defends, pushing Harry lightly. Harry sways, still giggling heartily. “I’m just showing him viral videos that every normal man should know,” he explains.

“Right,” Louis scoffs, shaking his head and walking to his own desk. Harry stays with Niall, keeps giggling and snorting and gasping for breath for close to an hour, every sweet little sound releasing another bit of stress from the inside of Louis’s head. He absolutely will not accept the theory that Harry is a terrorist; this creature is nothing but happy, just looking for a way home.

Eventually Harry gets up and comes to Louis’s desk, dragging his chair loudly behind him. Louis pretends not to notice him until Harry sits down beside him and leans against him, watching his computer.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, resting his head on Louis’s shoulder.

“Answering emails,” Louis says, ignoring the way his stomach flutters a little when Harry nuzzles his cheek against his shirt.

“How was your meeting?” Harry asks, perching his chin on Louis’s shoulder now to peer up at him.

“Uh, fine,” Louis says, shifting a little. Everything Winston said comes rushing back to him, and he turns to look at Harry for a moment.

“What?” Harry hums, pulling away so he can look at Louis without crossing his eyes. 

“Nothing,” Louis says, watching him for just another second before turning back to his computer.

“What was the meeting about? What did they say?” Harry asks. He’s just curious, Louis knows, but the question hangs uneasily in the air for a second before Louis works up the courage to lie.

“Just, you know, boring stuff,” Louis shrugs. “Nothing too interesting or memorable.”

“Why wasn’t Niall invited then?” Harry says, somehow not sounding accusatory. “Why just you?”

“They like me better,” Louis jokes, throwing a grin over his shoulder at Niall. Niall is watching him curiously, though, eyes narrowed, and Louis decides he’ll tell him later.

“Oh,” Harry says, smiling when he sees that Louis is smiling. He seems to relax, wrapping his arms around Louis’s middle for a light cuddle. “Me too,” he whispers.

“Hey!” Niall squawks. Louis laughs loudly and Harry giggles along, too, until all three of them are laughing. Eventually Harry busies himself trying to learn origami and Louis gets back to work, still absolutely positive that he’s right about Harry.

-

He forgets that Winston gave him one week to do something about Harry until the week is nearly up. It’s Sunday afternoon again and they’re tangled up on the sofa, Louis lying mostly between Harry’s legs as he teaches him how to play FIFA. Harry plays quietly, taking Louis’s direction, learning how to play just as quickly as he learns everything else Louis tries to teach him.

“You’d get it in better from a different angle,” Harry says, after Louis misses a second goal in a row. “Try from here.”

Louis allows Harry to place his hand over his own, guiding his player toward the right of the pitch, diagonal from the goal. Louis frowns and takes his shot, and the ball soars straight into the goal.

“How did you know that?” Louis says, chuckling quietly. “You’re better than me at everything I do,” he says.

“I don’t know, I just knew,” Harry says, like his never ending knowledge of everything puzzles even him.

“Handy, I should keep you around,” Louis hums, reaching up to pat Harry’s cheek sweetly. Harry beams and nuzzles in his hand, and Louis’s stomach flips a little.

“Really? I thought the humans were still trying to send me home,” he says, hooking his chin over Louis’s shoulder and peering at his face. Louis meets his eyes, his heart still jolting the same way it has every time since the first time he saw Harry’s eyes. There’s still a quality about Harry that is unsettling in the most exciting way, not quite real but somehow still right in front of him.

“They are,” he shrugs, wobbling Harry’s head a little. “I was just kidding.”

Harry frowns. “You don’t want to keep me?”

“Well, of course I do. But they’re still trying to figure out how we can get you home.”

Harry goes quiet for a moment, dropping his eyes but leaving his head where it is on Louis’s shoulder. “Louis?” he asks after a moment, meeting his eyes again.

“Yes?” Louis hums, blinking down at him.

“What happens if they can’t figure out how to send me home?” Harry asks quietly, apprehensively.

“Well, I’m not sure,” Louis mumbles, remembering his conversation with Winston last week. “I’m sure we’ll figure something else out.”

“If I have to stay,” Harry asks, words careful and calculated, “will I get to stay with you?”

“You don’t have to,” Louis shrugs. “I’m sure it’d be okay if you found a place of your own.”

“What if I want to stay with you, though?” Harry frowns, picking his head up and looking at Louis, their eyes level now.

Louis blinks at him, eyes flickering for an unrestrained moment at Harry’s lips. “Well, I suppose that would be alright, too.”

Harry’s eyes shift to Louis’s lips, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks like he’s confused, like he wants something but he doesn’t know what. Louis can feel his breath against his skin, can feel his heart beating against Louis’s back.

 _Not human_ , Louis thinks quickly, backing up a fraction of an inch. He can’t go anywhere, though, trapped snugly in the cage of Harry’s warm body. _Not human, not human, not human_

Harry huffs a tiny breath and Louis’s thoughts turn into background noise, his body leaning without his permission into Harry’s space. Their lips meet with a hint of confusion but Louis doesn’t give Harry time to ask, showing him instead, until Harry catches on, pushing back against Louis’s lips and hugging him closer.

It’s so very human, the thing they’re doing. Kissing, breathing into each other’s mouths, feeling each other’s warmth. Harry’s hardly ever warm, though, fingers cold on Louis’s back through his shirt. Harry’s not human, Harry’s not from this planet, Harry is different but only slightly and _fuck_ it feels good when Louis licks into his mouth, his whole body tingling from the point of contact, like Harry is some kind of illicit drug Louis is already getting hooked on.

He shifts so he’s sitting on Harry’s lap, hovering over him and kissing him again. Harry makes a soft, quiet little noise into his mouth, like he still doesn’t really know what’s going on, and Louis can hardly help the way he moans back, cupping Harry’s cheeks in his hands and kissing him that much harder.

He’s panting when they finally break apart, his heart racing to catch up with his thoughts. He forces himself to sit back, even when Harry’s hands resist, trying to keep him close.

“Stop, stop,” he tells himself, under his breath, watching Harry’s face. 

Harry is glowing. Literally. His eyes are so bright Louis can hardly look right at them, his skin so white it’s nearly luminescent. Louis thinks that if he touched him right now, Harry would feel like thin glass, like the stuff they make light bulbs with, the type that will crush under hardly any pressure.

“What is that,” Harry breathes, grabbing Louis’s hand and putting it over his chest. Louis can feel his heart rabbiting under his palm, faster than his own. “Why is it doing that?”

Louis frowns, spreading his fingers over Harry’s chest, Harry’s pulse maintaining the same breathless tempo. “You’re excited,” he says, voice barely there. “That’s a very human reaction.”

Harry frowns as well, putting his hand over Louis’s chest. “But I’m not human.”

Louis would flinch if he hadn’t been chanting the same thing over and over his mind since they broke apart. “I know.”

Somehow, they forget about it. Somehow, Louis tears himself out of Harry’s lap and heads to the kitchen to make dinner. Somehow, he gets his body to do something that isn’t exploring every inch of Harry.

They eat at the table, in a mostly comfortable silence. Harry keeps smiling about something, but Louis can’t imagine what it is. All Louis can think about is the fact that he kissed an alien, an alien who is not safe here, and never will be.

He’s still thinking about it when they finally go to bed, Harry curling around his back like a blanket. He thinks about it all night, thinks about how when they wake up in the morning he’s going to have to find a way to convince the government that Harry is more human than some actual humans he knows, and he’s not here to destroy the world.

-

“We can’t get rid of him.”

Winston peers up at Louis over the rim of his glasses, clearly startled. Louis probably could have found a better way to approach the topic than bursting into his office first thing in the morning, but he doesn’t care. He needs to know that Harry will be protected.

“And why is that?” Winston sighs, watching him tiredly.

“Because he’s innocent,” Louis says. “He’s not trying to do anything. I promise you, I can prove it, just- please, we need to protect him, not get rid of him,” he says.

Winston has the nerve to roll his eyes, and Louis wants to scream. “Tomlinson, listen, he’s got you-”

“Brainwashed, I know, bullshit,” Louis spits. “You clearly know nothing about him! No, he’s not human, but- he’s _better_ , agent Winston, I swear. He’s exactly like a human but so, so much better, and lovelier, and-”

“Smarter. He’s smarter than you and he’s playing on your emotions,” Winston rolls his eyes again. “We need to get rid of him before he does real damage.”

“No!” Louis bites out. “I’d honestly be more willing to believe he’s an angel send from fucking god himself than an alien sent here to destroy Earth. All he wants to do is learn, observe, exist. He wants nothing more than that! Just let him be, why aren’t we still trying to send him home?”

“You want to send him home? Go ahead, Tomlinson,” Winston spits back. “Let me know where you send him, because all we’ve been able to think of is sending him off in a rocket by himself and hoping he doesn’t die trying to find his way back.”

Louis blinks, shaking his head. “Why don’t you ask him, then? Let him work with you, since you know how smart he is.”

“And what happens when he feeds us a load of shit and brainwashes us like he’s done to you?”

“Fuck you!” Louis is too worked up, he knows it. He takes a deep breath, taking a step forward. “I’m sorry. Just, please, give him a chance.”

“No,” Winston dismisses easily, scribbling something on a pad of paper and ripping it off to give to Louis. “Bring him here at 3pm today. Do not say a word about any of this to him.”

Louis takes the paper, realizing his hands are shaking. There’s an address written for somewhere in Washington, a few miles south of the office. Louis shakes his head.

“And what are you going to do?”

“We have to kill him, Tomlinson,” Winston says, sounding grave. He sounds sincerely apologetic for the first time. “I know this is difficult, but you have to trust us.”

Louis stares at him and then looks down at the paper, gripping it so hard it crinkles.

“Please, agent Tomlinson,” Winston says. “Please, trust us. Help us save our planet.”

Louis blinks and nods, stuffing the paper in his pocket. “Whatever,” he breathes, throat tight, turning on his heel and marching out of the office. He’s trembling, his whole body shaking as he steps into the lift. 

He has no idea what to do. On one hand, he desperately wants to protect Harry, to let him prove that he’s not bad. He doesn’t know how to do that, though; he’s not sure he’s prepared to drop everything and run away with him, leave his job and his friends and his flat and just disappear with an alien man. 

He manages to pull himself together by the time he gets to his office, but upon seeing Harry, he nearly breaks down entirely. Harry is sitting cross legged on the floor, staring intently at a patch of sunlight that comes in through the window. Niall is at his desk and Louis nods in greeting, and then goes to crouch down next to Harry.

“What are you doing?” he hums, forcing a smile when Harry turns to look at him.

“Watching the light,” Harry says simply. “It’s so interesting how it moves as the planet turns away from the sun. You can watch it happen!” he says, looking thrilled. “This planet is so amazing, Lou, I never want to leave.”

Louis’s breath catches in his throat, but if Harry notices, he doesn’t let on. He stands up and turns away, pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket and examining it for a moment.

“We have to go,” he announces suddenly.

Both Harry and Niall jump, turning to look up at him. Louis turns his teary eyes toward Harry for only a second before locking on Niall, marching over to his desk and handing over the piece of paper. Niall takes it nervously and looks at it for a few long minutes. Louis can tell exactly when Niall realizes what’s going on; his face drains of color, his eyes turning sad.

“What’s going on?” Harry asks, voice careful. Louis can’t look at him.

“We’ve got to go somewhere,” Louis says tightly. Niall flinches and looks up at him questioningly, like he thought for a second Louis was actually going to bring Harry to that address to be slaughtered like an animal. “No,” he spits. “We’ve got to get away from here.”

“Where?” Harry asks. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We have to go,” Louis says again, panicked this time. The look on Niall’s face confirms everything he’s feeling; Niall is telling him to go, and Louis has never trusted anyone more than he trusts Niall.

When he finally turns to look at Harry, he just looks confused. Louis can’t do this, god. He turns to his own desk and starts shoving things into his bag, closing his laptop and tossing it in.

“Louis,” Harry says, starting to get worried. He grabs Louis’s arm, forcing him to give him his attention, making him look at his face. “Tell me?”

“They want to kill you,” Louis breathes, eyes filling again so quickly with tears that he can’t even see Harry’s reaction. “But I’m not going to let them.”

Louis blinks and Harry’s hand falls away, his face pale and dull suddenly. “I thought they were trying to send me home,” he says, quiet, even, like he’s trying not to panic.

“I’ll explain later,” Louis says, shaking his head. He can’t do this right now. They need to fucking _go_.

Niall sends him off with good wishes and a brotherly hug, and Louis won’t admit that he let loose a few tears. No one follows them out of the building, but Louis still peels out of the parking lot, speeding toward his flat.

“Where are we going to go?” Harry asks, clinging onto the door handle like he’s terrified. He probably is, the poor thing. Louis’s gonna keep him safe.

“West,” Louis says. “I don’t know. Somewhere they won’t find us.”

Harry swallows and watches out the window, until finally they get to Louis’s flat. They pack their things, which are mostly Louis’s things, moving fast so that the full weight of what’s happening can’t catch up with them.

They’re back in the car in less than fifteen minutes, and Louis heads straight for the highway. He truly doesn’t know where they’re going; California, maybe. Harry should see the beaches there, if he wants something to be amazed by. Louis’s going to show him everything, teach him everything he doesn’t already know, and it’s going to be so good. The government won’t be able to find them, tell them what to do, think they know things they don’t have any proof of. Louis is right, here, isn’t he?

-

They sleep in the car the next few nights. Louis only pays for things in cash and Harry keeps his head down when they’re in public, and somehow, they make it to California. Harry is every bit as amazed as Louis thought he would be, but it doesn’t bring Louis the same sense of joy that it used to. Now, every gasp and every point of Harry’s finger breaks Louis’s heart, because eventually they’re going to be found and Harry is going to be killed, and Louis is probably going to jail.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, not for the first time. Louis still doesn’t really have an answer, not a solid one, but this time he has a distraction.

“I want to show you something,” Louis says, glancing over at Harry.

“What is it?” Harry grins, sitting up. It’s like he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation, or he’s forgotten. Louis wishes he had that kind of blissful ignorance back.

“The beach,” Louis says. “Where the land meets the ocean.” 

Harry beams, turning away from him and pressing his face against the window. Louis can’t help but smile watching him, but he’s careful to keep his eyes on the road. The last thing they need is to be pulled over and found out.

“How far is it?” Harry asks, looking back over at Louis after a moment.

“Not far,” Louis says. “Just a few minutes, if I remember correctly.”

“Have you been here before?” Harry asks. “To the beach?”

“Few times,” Louis says, quietly. He doesn’t elaborate; he doesn’t want to talk about the past, he doesn’t have time to think about it. All he wants to think about is Harry, and what the hell they’re going to do now.

Eventually the water comes into view, and Louis finds a sandy sidestreet to pull off into. He leads Harry down the dune and onto the beach, watching Harry’s face as it lights up.

Louis finds a shady spot in the sand and sits, watching while Harry investigates his new surroundings. There aren’t many people on the beach, only a few people far off to their left, probably because it’s an early Tuesday morning and everyone is busy. Louis pulls his knees up to his chest and watches Harry shuffle down to the water, dragging his feet through the sand to feel it on his bare toes.

Harry whips his head around when a wave crashes and laps over his feet, grinning at Louis. Louis gives him an encouraging smile and Harry turns back to the ocean, his outline stark against the endless blue. He’s far enough away that he doesn’t hear the sob Louis lets out, doesn’t realize when Louis buries his head in his knees and starts to cry.

They’re going to kill him. Harry, this beautiful creature without an ounce of malice in his body. They’re going to kill him simply because the blood pumping through his veins isn’t human. They’re going to kill him because they don’t understand him, not the way Louis does. They’re going to kill him because Louis can’t make them see.

He cries for Harry’s innocence, for his excitement, for his smile and his hugs and his laugh. He cries because Harry has no idea what’s going on, as smart as he is, because he’s too good to know what these horrible humans expect of him. Harry probably doesn’t even know what terrorism is, hasn’t been brainwashed to fear anyone that isn’t like him, to blindly protect nationalism, to protect borders that are only made up. He doesn’t know what makes one country different from another, never even fully understood the concept of a passport. Harry is everything good that the Earth has banished, Louis thinks. Maybe the thing that makes him not human is that he’s not bad at all, like everyone else. Even Louis himself is to blame, he thinks, for ever thinking Harry could survive here.

He wipes his face on his knee and glances up, finds Harry splashing gleefully in the waves. He’s not careful at all, not worried about stepping on a rock or getting knocked over by a wave or seeing something slimy beneath his feet in the water. He’s so, so lovely, Louis’s heart is breaking all over again.

They stay there for a while, until Louis’s shady patch isn’t so shady anymore and Harry has moved on from the water to the tree line at the edge of the beach. He’s investigating a palm tree, peeling bits off of it and sniffing at it. He takes an experimental bite and then spits it out, glancing over at Louis as if to check if he’s been caught. Louis just gives him a tired little smile and Harry grins back, setting off further down the tree line to investigate some more.

What if they’re right, Louis wonders suddenly, about Harry? What if he really is brainwashing Louis into thinking he’s so good and pure? It’s true, Harry is the most intelligent being Louis has ever encountered, much more intelligent than a human could ever be. He learned nearly an entire language over the course of a day, and soaks up every piece of information presented to him like a sponge in water. Maybe he is smart enough to figure out exactly how to trick Louis into trusting him, into helping him, and now he’s got him exactly where he wants him. What if Harry’s plans _are_ nefarious? What if he’s been playing Louis this entire time and now he’s going to use him as a pawn in his disastrous plan?

He picks himself up out of the sand slowly, eyes locked on Harry. Harry has his back to him, still lumbering along the tree line, examining the trees and the tall grass that grows between them. He doesn’t mean to sneak up on him, not really, but Harry still jumps when he turns around and finds Louis right behind him.

His eyes flash in a way that unsettles Louis deeply, a way that reminds Louis exactly how _not_ human Harry is. He’s back to friendly and jovial in an instant, though, giving Louis a warm smile.

“Hello,” he says, poking at Louis’s tummy. Maybe yesterday, or this morning, Louis would have giggled. Now, he hardly cracks a smile. “Is it time to go?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Louis says lowly, watching Harry’s face blankly. Harry grows visibly nervous, frowning at Louis’s tone.

“Um,” he glances around, uncomfortable. “I don’t know what you-”

“Sorry, nevermind,” Louis mutters, shaking his head. _Snap out of it, idiot_ , he tells himself, _you’re supposed to be on his side_. “Yeah, it might be time to go. We should find a motel or something before it gets late.”

“A motel?” Harry asks, trudging behind Louis up the sand dune they came over to get to the beach.

“A motor hotel, a place to sleep,” Louis says. “They’re convenient and cheap, usually.”

Harry hums in understanding and shakes his feet free of sand before he gets in the car, but Louis doesn’t bother. Sand in his floormats is the least of his worries right now when there’s a potential danger to humanity sitting in his passenger seat.

It takes about 15 minutes to find a motel near the beach, close enough that when they wake up tomorrow they could go for a walk and have a proper beach day. Louis tries to shut off the part of his brain that tries to tell him that that’s a bad idea, leading Harry to the front desk in the lobby of the motel and receiving a single key.

Harry is uncharacteristically quiet as Louis leads the way to their room, watching his feet while they walk. _He knows_ , Louis thinks to himself. _He can tell I’m paranoid. He’s too fucking smart_.

Neither of them say anything until they’re closed in their room, bags set down by the foot of the bed. There’s a bathroom in the far right corner and a bed big enough for the two of them to share. There’s a desk across from the bed on which Louis carefully sets his car keys and the room key, chewing on his lip. 

Harry sits down on the bed and continues watching his feet, still bare and a bit sandy. He never put his shoes back on; they’re sitting by the door, looking inconspicuous and innocent, the way Harry has looked up until this very moment. Fucking hell, Louis can’t believe he was falling in love with this monster.

He jolts himself with the thought. Falling in love? Well, maybe. He can’t say he didn’t enjoy sleeping cuddled up with Harry every night, kissing him that one night on the couch, spending just about every waking moment with him. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terribly fond of this creature. It’s horrible, eats away at him, because as much as he wants to love and trust Harry, he just can’t get Winston’s words out of his head.

_Mr. Tomlinson, it is clear to see that Harry has outsmarted you._

He turns around from the desk slowly and Harry perks up, looking up at him. His eyes are sad when Louis meets them.

“I know why we’re here.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, tipping his head forward a bit and moving around the bed. He grabs his bag and goes to sit up by the pillows. Harry’s back is to him now, but he keeps talking.

“They want me dead,” Harry says quietly. “They think I’m dangerous, don’t they? They think I want to do something bad?” Louis doesn’t say anything, so after a brief silence, Harry carries on. “But you’re protecting me, because you know they’re wrong, don’t you? You believe me. You know I’m not bad, you know I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

Louis grits his teeth, rummaging in his bag. _Don’t fall for it._

“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Harry breathes, slumping. “I’m sorry I’m not normal. I know you loved your job, and I’m sorry this is happening because of me. I wish I could change it, Lou, I wish I could be human, but I don’t know how to get them to believe me. I want to stay here with you, but not if it’s always going to be like this,” he sniffles. 

Louis still doesn’t say anything, shaky hands closing around what he was looking for. He shifts and Harry turns to look at him sadly, but he freezes immediately.

“Louis,” he chokes, but Louis shakes his head.

“How do I know they weren’t wrong about you?” Louis asks, voice quiet but strong. He adjusts the gun in his hand, pointed directly at Harry’s chest. “How do I know you aren’t brainwashing me, like they said? How do I know you’re actually as good as you want me to think you are?”

“Please,” Harry sobs, a tear rolling down his cheek, quickly followed by another, and another. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m trying so hard, Louis, to do what you taught me and to be like-”

“You’re lying,” Louis spits, hand tightening on the gun. “You’re lying!”

“No!” Harry wails, crumpling a little bit. “Look what you've done to me! You've taught me how to be human the best you could, and I thought I was doing well. I have all these emotions and feelings and I can't turn them off no matter how hard I try, how could you think i want to destroy the world?” he grits out.

“You’re fucking lying to me,” Louis all but yells, ignoring the way Harry flinches away. 

“I’m not,” Harry whimpers. “I can prove it.”

Louis falters a bit, wondering what Harry means by that. Harry seems to sense that he’s breaking and he sits up a little, inching toward him. Louis snaps back to attention, thrusting the gun back up, startling Harry so much he nearly ends up on the floor.

“Louis, please,” he cries. “Just tell me how I can prove it to you, I swear I’m not bad,” he says.

Louis just shakes his head, finger twitching over the trigger. He’s shaking, has been this whole time, heart hammering out of control. He should just shoot Harry, he knows, get it over with and go home. He can plead for his job back, kiss Ben Winston’s fucking shoes for it, whatever it takes. He should just shoot Harry. Shoot him. Just, pull the trigger. _Fucking shoot him._

He sobs, lowering the gun and covering his face. His heart feels like it’s going to jump ship, aching so hard in his chest he’s worried it might just stop beating altogether. He feels sick, wants to vomit, wants to cry until his lungs give out and wake up in a universe where none of this ever happened.

It’s a few minutes before he looks up again, having expected Harry to have either fled or taken the gun while Louis was breaking. He didn’t do either, but he did stand up, looking hurt and worried and confused at the foot of the bed.

Louis swallows hard and meets his eyes, both of them watching the other for a long moment. Harry almost looks hopeful until Louis picks up the gun again, pointing it at Harry’s chest.

Harry crumples to the floor, sobbing into the carpet. “Louis, please!” he sobs, shaking his head, his entire body trembling. He looks so small, so scared, so _innocent_. Louis drops the gun.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, crawling off the bed and over to where Harry is in a pile on the floor. He scoops him into his arms and Harry sobs into his neck, clinging onto his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I believe you,” he whispers, petting at Harry’s hair.

“I want to go home,” Harry wheezes, crying so hard he’s nearly gagging himself. “Please, just help me go home,” he cries.

“No, please, I’m sorry,” Louis whimpers, hugging Harry tight. “I can’t believe I just did that. I don’t think you’re trying to end the world, really, I don’t,” he says.

“I just want to go home,” Harry says, voice shuddering and broken. 

“I can protect you,” Louis promises, pressing his trembling lips to Harry’s temple.

“You can’t even trust me,” Harry hisses, jaw clenched. “How can you protect me?”

“Shit, I fucked up,” Louis breathes, burying his face in Harry’s hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Harry keeps crying for a while, despite all of Louis’s efforts to cuddle him back to health. Finally Louis’s heart tells him to give up, and he squeezes Harry once more. “I’ll find a way to get you home,” he says quietly. “I promise. I promise, Harry.”

Harry just presses closer to him and cries a little harder, shaking hands looped behind his neck. Louis lets him cry for a few minutes longer and then manages to drag him up off the floor, helping him into bed and pulling the covers up over them. They’re still in their clothes, still sandy from the beach, Harry wet with tears and Louis drenched in guilt.

They fall asleep somehow, still tangled up together even though Harry must hate Louis with everything he has for what he just did. He’s still got his face buried in Louis’s neck like he’s terrified to leave him, though, arms tight around Louis’s waist and one leg caught in between both of Louis’s. 

Yeah, they’ll have a lot of shit to pick up in the morning, but right now, Louis’s going to savor every moment he has left with Harry.

-

They wake up to someone pounding on the door, startling them both into sitting up. Harry shrinks himself into Louis’s side and Louis holds him close, staring in horror through the gauzy curtain out the window at all of the cars and people outside.

“FBI!” someone shouts, banging on the door again. “We know you’re in there! Open up!”

Louis’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach, and Harry whimpers into his shoulder. Louis pulls them both back down under the covers quickly, forcing Harry to meet his eyes.

“What do we do?” he whispers frantically, searching Harry’s face. If they get in here, they’re going to kill Harry, and possibly Louis as well for causing all this trouble. Harry shakes his head at him, looking terrified.

“I don’t know!” Harry whispers back. “I have no idea! Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Louis says, giving Harry a hopeful little smile. “And you’re not even a person. If anyone knows what to do, it’s you.”

Harry blinks, staring at Louis’s nose for a second. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment of thought, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t know, there’s no way out, I can’t do this.”

Louis grabs his face, forcing Harry’s eyes open again. He leans in and kisses his lips quickly, just a peck, and then nuzzles his nose. “Harry, what do we do?” he asks again, calmly.

Harry breathes out harshly and presses his face into Louis’s chest, even as the men outside continue yelling and pounding on the door. Louis holds him and rubs his back, kissing his hair, giving him time to think.

Suddenly Harry sobs, his body trembling violently. Louis frowns and looks down at him, trying to meet his eyes again. “Hey,” he whispers, kissing his nose. “What?”

“I can’t go home,” Harry whimpers.

“What, why?” Louis frowns, forcing Harry to hold eye contact. Harry’s eyes are different from normal, like he’s truly panicked. They’re dark and stormy and cloudy, nothing like their usual bright glow.

“I’m a freak there,” he confesses, shaking his head. “I'm so fascinated with Earth, and that's not normal there. It's frowned upon, actually, and I came here without telling anyone.” There’s a moment of silence during which they both just breathe, and Harry starts to cry again. “I stole a shuttle and I crashed it because I didn't know how to use it, and now I can't go back. They won't have me; they'll put me in jail or kill me, or… Please, Louis, I can't go back,” he cries.

“Shit,” Louis sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Okay, maybe if you had told us that in the beginning, we wouldn't be here right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whimpers again, curling in on himself. 

“Alright, here's what's gonna happen,” Louis says, chewing on his lip. “I'm gonna go out there and I'm gonna demand they put their weapons away, and I'm gonna explain to them what you just told me,” he says. “Maybe they’ll understand.”

“What if they still want to kill me?” Harry asks, grabbing at Louis’s wrist so he won’t leave, looking paralyzed with fear. “What if they don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know,” Louis mutters, “but this is our only option right now. Stay here, and don’t go near the windows,” he says.

Harry nods, but he drags him in for one last kiss before Louis can get up. “Please don’t let them kill me, Louis,” he whispers, voice barely a breath. Louis nods and presses one more kiss to his lips, and then slips out of bed and tries to gain the courage to walk to the door.

He opens it slowly and slips outside, giving everyone the chance to realize he’s alone. Liam is there, looking like he might be sick, as well as Winston and the rest of the stupid fucking group. Niall is missing, though, and Louis wonders if he told them where Louis went. Louis knows that’s crazy, though; Niall would never give him up, especially not in a situation like this. Louis is sure that Niall is on his side here.

“Louis,” Liam hisses, charging at him immediately. Louis stands protectively in front of the door, not budging an inch when Liam tries to pull him away. “What the fuck, man?”

“Agent Tomlinson,” Winston says, stepping up as well. Louis stands a bit firmer, staring defiantly at Winston. “Care to explain yourself, or should we just finally take matters into our own hands?”

“It’s not what you think,” Louis says, growls really, glaring up at Winston’s smug smirk. “I’ll explain, right after you tell all these idiots to put their weapons away. No one here is dangerous.”

Winston rolls his eyes but motions with his hand, and the crowd of men behind him lower their weapons slowly. “You have one minute,” Winston says.

“Okay, I know you think he’s dangerous. Trust me, I considered it too. Yeah, I took him and ran away because I believed you were wrong about him and I wanted to protect him, but as soon as we got out here, I started thinking that maybe you were right. I mean, there aren’t a lot of people I would up and leave my life for, right? Why was I doing it for an alien I barely knew? Surely he had to be brainwashing me, right? So I eventually came to the conclusion that, yeah, you were right all along. And that’s why I decided I needed to kill him myself to get this all over with,” he confesses.

Winston’s eyes brighten, and he looks surprised. “He’s dead, then? You were able to kill him?”

“See, that’s where things get interesting,” Louis says. “I tried, I really did. But he convinced me. You can’t fake that amount of compassion, Agent Winston. He was terrified and distraught and miserable, someone cannot fake those emotions, especially someone who’s not even human. That’s what I’ve determined, Agent Winston: just because he’s not technically human does not make him different from us. All his thoughts and feelings and emotions are just as human as yours or mine or anyone else’s, if not more. I didn’t kill him, and I’m not going to let you do it, either, until we know for sure whether he is or isn’t dangerous.”

“That’s the thing, though, Agent Tomlinson,” Winston sighs. “We are sure. You’re the only one that’s still under this delusion.”

“So you don’t believe me?” Louis scoffs. “You’re just gonna storm in there and kill him without even giving him a chance?”

Winston purses his lips, actually seeming to consider it for a second. “Yes,” he determines.

He makes a start for the door and Louis screams, slipping back inside and slamming the door before anyone can follow him. “In the bathroom, Harry, get into the bathroom!” he shrieks.

He locks the door while Harry shuffles and stumbles out of bed, tripping his way across the floor into the bathroom. Louis dashes to follow him, getting the bathroom door locked just in time for the front door of the room to be kicked in by one of the agents.

“I’m armed!” Louis shouts, grabbing Harry and pulling him into the bathtub, closing the curtain around them like it’ll protect them at all. “I have my gun!”

It’s a lie, and they probably know it. Louis’s gun is in the bedside drawer where he left it last night, just waiting to be found to make a liar out of him.

“Agent Tomlinson, come out of the bathroom,” Winston calls, kicking at the locked door. “We don’t want to have to use force.”

“He’s gone!” Louis shouts, looking frantically at Harry, who looks just as worried. “He escaped out the window! He’s not here!”

“This building is surrounded, Tomlinson,” Winston says, sounding increasingly annoyed. “Come out with your hands up, and tell the extraterrestrial to do the same.”

“His name is Harry!” Louis spits, hugging Harry close. “His name is Harry, and I’m going to protect him with everything in me,” he says, quieter, just for Harry.

Harry sobs gently into his chest, holding tight around Louis’s waist. He’s shaking like a leaf in real, genuine fear. Louis wishes he could beam them both away somewhere safe, wishes Harry could just teleport them both back to his home planet. Nothing he could face there would be as horrific as this.

“Louis, don’t be stupid,” says Liam’s voice. He sounds worried, sad, like he’s close to tears. “C’mon, Lou, just come out. Everything will be alright.”

“No!” Louis screams, hugging Harry’s head against his chest. “I’m not letting you kill him!”

“Louis, please,” Liam begs, knocking gently on the door. “Please come out. Make this easy.”

“I’m so scared,” Harry whispers, voice broken and trembling. 

“You’re okay,” Louis breathes back, holding him tight. “I’m not gonna let them get you. I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“Louis,” Liam begs again. There’s a soft thud against the door, like Liam dropped his head against it. “Can we at least negotiate with you?”

“I’m not letting you fucking touch him!” Louis shouts. “For anything! Just let him be!”

“Listen, Tomlinson,” Winston speaks up again through a sigh. “We won’t kill him, alright? We’ll take him in for questioning, and we’ll give him a chance. Is that what you want?”

“I want to be there,” Louis demands immediately. “In the room. I want to be there and I want to be able to put a stop to it at any point.”

“Fine,” Winston grumbles. “Whatever you want. Now come out of the bathroom, please.”

“How can I believe you?” Louis spits, frowning at the door through the shower curtain. “What if we come out and you shoot both of us?”

“Everyone’s weapons are down,” Winston says.

“He’s not lying,” Liam pipes up. “Our guns are away. Just come out, and it’ll all be fine.”

Louis looks down at Harry, who still looks sick with terror. Louis brushes his hair out of his face and kisses his forehead gently, giving him a tiny nod.

“Louis,” Harry whispers frantically, clinging to his chest. “What?”

“I trust them,” Louis says. “Well, I trust Liam, even if he’s a prick sometimes. It’ll be fine, they’ll question you and realize that everything is fine, and then we’ll go home and figure out what to do next,” he explains.

“I’m scared,” Harry whimpers, still clinging to Louis even as Louis stands up. “Louis, I’m so scared.”

“I know,” Louis breathes, leaning in to kiss Harry’s forehead once more, and then his lips. “Stay here, and I’ll make sure everything’s okay.”

Harry curls up in the bottom of the bathtub, shaking like a leaf. Louis tiptoes to the door and counts himself down with his hand on the handle, finally cracking it open and peeking out.

Before he knows what’s happening the door is forced open, hitting him straight in the face and making him stumble backwards. Someone grabs him and he hears Harry start screaming, but he’s too dazed and confused to do anything but watch helplessly as Harry is dragged up and out of the tub by two decidedly still armed men, forced to his feet and out the door. Harry is limp, petrified, tears streaming down his face as he’s dragged out of the room. He keeps his eyes locked with Louis’s until Louis can’t see him anymore, until Louis is being dragged out as well.

“Wait!” Louis shrieks, struggling against whoever is holding him. “Stop! Don’t fucking hurt him!”

“We’re not going to hurt him,” Winston says, his face suddenly swimming in front of Louis’s eyes. Louis thinks there’s blood dripping down his own face, but it could just be tears. “Relax, Tomlinson.”

Louis stays conscious long enough to be led out of the motel room, to witness Harry being rather roughly forced into an unmarked car before Louis himself is forced into a separate one. There’s someone forcing a towel under his nose but Louis just screams, fighting with all of his strength until finally he just passes out, his head throbbing painfully. He doesn’t wake up again in time to learn what’s happened to Harry, or what’s going to happen when they get back to Washington.

-

The next time Louis wakes up, he’s in a holding cell in Washington and Harry is nowhere to be seen.

There’s a moment of confusion when Louis wakes up in the tiny cot he’s resting on, but suddenly everything comes rushing back to him. He must have been sedated at some point because he feels groggy and weak, but his head still hurts from when he got hit by the door. Upon closer inspection in the tiny mirror beside the toilet in his holding cell, he finds his nose is bruised and cut, his eyes dark and unfocused.

He takes a moment to sit on the cot and consider his options. He could wait quietly until someone comes to check on him so that he doesn’t risk pissing the FBI off any further, but for all he knows Harry could already be dead and if there’s a chance Louis can still help him, he wants to.

He walks to the bars at the front of the cell, gazing down the empty hallway. He’s the only person in any of the cells, which is comforting, because at least he won’t be bothering anyone else when he starts yelling.

“Hey!” he screams, listening to his own voice echo around the hallway. “Hey! Let me out!”

It takes a few minutes but eventually a guard comes down, trailed closely by Winston and Liam. Winston looks angrier than Louis’s ever seen him, and Liam just looks sheepish and sad.

“Where is he?” Louis demands, rattling the bars of the cell door. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, for now,” Winston rolls his eyes. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. We know we promised to let you sit in on the questioning.”

Louis slumps with relief, backing away from the door so the guard can unlock it. “Is he okay?” he asks again, to Liam this time, grabbing at his friend’s arm.

Liam might be a dick, but he is Louis’s friend, after all. They’ve worked together for years and Louis suspects he quite hates him, especially after all of this, but they’re friends.

“He’s fine,” Liam repeats. “Scared, shaken up, but fine. He’s been asking after you since we got him out of the motel.”

“You fuckers made me bleed, he was probably worried,” Louis grumbles.

“Worried is an understatement,” Liam scoffs.

“We hope you’ll understand, Louis,” Winston butts in, like he couldn’t hear the conversation. “But we think it’s best if you aren’t in the room for the questioning. You can be in the watch room, behind the screen, but you know your temper. It’ll be best if you’re not in the room, and he’ll likely be more honest if he can’t see you,” he explains.

Louis resists the urge to argue, knowing he’s lucky Winston is keeping Harry alive in the first place. “Fine,” he mutters, letting Winston and Liam lead him into the lift and up to the interrogation rooms.

He just about bursts into tears when he gets to the watch room. There’s a little television set up in the corner with the live video of Harry in the next room, chained to a chair looking absolutely horrified. He has tear tracks on his cheeks but he’s not actively crying, watching the door intently like he knows someone is going to walk through it any second.

“How long has he been like that?” Louis spits, marching over to the TV and inspecting Harry’s pixelated image. “Unchain him, Jesus, he’s not a criminal!”

“It’s just a precaution,” Winston says tiredly, guiding Louis into a chair with a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Just relax.”

A second later the door to the interrogation room opens, and even though Harry was prepared for it, he still jumps like someone shot a gun right next to his ear.

“Where’s Louis,” Harry sobs immediately, shifting in his seat but never pulling against the restraints. “I just want to see him, please.”

“You can see him after we ask you a few questions,” the agent, Louis can’t remember his name, says. 

“Is he alright, though?” Harry asks. “The last time I saw him he was bleeding and-”

“He’s fine, Harry, let’s talk about you now,” the agent says harshly. Harry flinches, and Louis’s blood boils.

“Just let me speak to him for a second,” Louis pleads. “Let me just tell him I’m-”

“Tomlinson,” Winston bites out. “Just relax.”

Louis sighs and slumps in his seat, swallowing the lump in his throat over and over while he watches Harry.

“Where are you from, Harry?” the interrogator asks, leaning his elbows on the table separating him from Harry.

“Not here,” Harry says, already panicking. “I don’t know, I don’t have a name for it that I can express to you that will mean anything.”

The interrogator cocks his head, watching Harry curiously. “Well, what do you call it in your own tongue, then?”

Harry doesn’t flinch, making a strange, nasally sort of sound. It’s the most inhuman thing Louis’s ever seen him do. The interrogator turns to look at the camera and Louis’s pulse picks up, and then the interrogator turns back around.

“Interesting. How did you get here?”

“I stole an aircraft,” Harry mutters, slumping in his seat a little. “I’ve always heard about Earth in school and everything and I thought it was so amazing, even though everyone at home thinks Earth is evil. I just think it’s fascinating, the way humans live, and evolve, and their technology. It’s so different from everything at home. It’s not normal, where I’m from, to be as fascinated with Earth as I am. I never meant any harm, honestly, I just wanted so desperately to see it all for myself. I left without telling anyone, because I knew they would hate me, and now if I go back, they’ll probably put me in prison, or kill me,” he admits.

The interrogator looks at the camera again, giving a little pause. “That’s what he told me,” Louis says, catching Winston’s opinion. “Right before you guys got us. That’s the story he told me.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this before now?” the interrogator asks, like he doesn’t believe Harry. Harry starts to get flustered, but manages to mostly retain his cool.

“I don’t know, I thought you might punish me, like they would at home. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to communicate with anyone but Louis, and when I finally learned it seemed like it was too late, or no one really cared anymore.”

“Did you ever tell agent Tomlinson any of this?” the interrogator asks.

“No,” Harry says quietly. “Not until this morning, when they found us at the motel. He said I should have mentioned it earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t,” he says, looking right at the camera now, like he’s caught on.

Louis’s heart pangs and it takes everything in him not to sob, because Harry looks so scared and sad and remorseful. Louis wonders if seeing Earth for himself was worth all of this, after all.

“How exactly does the aircraft you took here work?” the interrogator asks. “Do you know the technology?”

“Not entirely,” Harry says, growing worried again. “Um, I could- maybe, I could try and figure it out. It’s nothing like anything here, though, like your cars. Louis explained to me how cars work, and it’s nothing like what we have at home,” he says.

“But you can’t explain to me how that works?” the interrogator asks, skeptical.

Harry gives an awkward, halting explanation of how the vehicles on his planet work, and it frankly makes no sense, but the interrogator doesn’t seem suspicious by the time Harry stops himself and stares down at his knees.

“Interesting,” the interrogator says blankly. “What else can you tell me about where you’re from?”

It goes on for hours, the questions that seem pointless and the answers that Harry seems to stumble over every time. The interrogator asks a lot of the same questions, and Harry answers them all honestly and tells the exact same story, and eventually the interrogator leaves and comes into the watch room.

“He appears to be telling the truth,” the agent says. “I can’t find one flaw with his story. Some of it doesn’t make any sense, but that’s probably because we don’t understand the technology his species uses,” he says.

“So he’s fine, then,” Louis says, standing up quickly.

“Not so fast,” Winston says, forcefully sitting Louis back down. Louis almost starts a brawl, but he restrains himself. “Send in the next interrogator.”

“Another one?” Louis squawks, shaking his head. “You seriously don’t believe him yet?”

“We need to be sure, agent Tomlinson,” Winston says. “We need to be absolutely sure.”

The next interrogator is mean, makes Harry cry twice. Louis gets furious both times, but Winston still doesn’t let him interfere. It goes on for another few hours, until Harry is absolutely exhausted and Louis thinks he might just pass out.

“Done, he’s done,” Louis says, as soon as the second interrogator quits. “Please, let him be done.”

“Not yet,” Winston mutters, standing up himself now. “I want to ask him a few things myself.”

Liam, who has been sitting quietly in the corner the entire time, grabs Louis’s arm before Louis can protest. “Just let him. It’ll be over soon,” he says.

Louis huffs a breath and doubles over, holding his face in his lap. He just wants to get Harry and go home, have a peaceful night for the first time in ages and recover from this whole ordeal. Winston leaves the watch room and Louis sees him enter the interrogation room on the TV, and Harry sits up straight immediately.

He looks more scared now with Winston in front of him than he has this entire time, and Louis’s heart aches for him. Liam reaches out for him like he knows Louis is suffering too, and Louis leans gratefully into his side while Winston starts berating Harry.

He doesn’t end up asking very many questions, settling for just yelling in Harry’s face until Harry is sobbing, trying to hide even though his arms are still chained to the table. He’s terrified, trembling violently, and by the time Winston is done with him Liam is physically restraining Louis from going to save him.

“He’s yours,” Winston spits, storming back into the watch room. “I can’t prove that he’s plotting anything, but I know he is. If he does anything, _anything_ , Tomlinson, or you suspect he’s going to, you are to report it immediately, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Louis says hurriedly, jumping out of his seat to go rescue Harry from the interrogation room. Winston catches his arm before he goes, though, stopping him in his tracks.

“I mean it. Be careful with him,” he growls.

Louis shakes his arm free, looking Winston dead in the eyes when he says, “I intend to.”

He gets into the interrogation room just as Harry is being let free, the chains unlocked from around his wrists. He sobs again when he sees Louis and Louis rushes to him, pulling him out of his chair and into his arms. Harry rests his full weight into Louis and Louis isn’t prepared to hold him, so they both sink to the floor, Harry melting into a puddle of tears in Louis’s lap.

“You’re okay, it’s over,” Louis tells him, combing his fingers through his hair and kissing his scalp. “You did it, you did so well. You’re free now, they can’t hurt you anymore. You’re okay, we’re okay.”

“I was so worried about you,” Harry whimpers, sitting up a little and looking up at Louis’s face. “They made you bleed, they hurt you, they took you from me and they hurt you,” he cries.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Louis chuckles, kissing Harry’s temple gently. “I’m alright, see?” he pulls the goofiest grin he can muster, making Harry smile a bit too.

Harry collapses back into his chest, hugging him tight. Louis holds him for a long few minutes, until Harry isn’t crying anymore and his body has mostly stopped shaking.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Louis says eventually, picking himself and Harry up off of the floor. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Harry freezes a little, looking up at Louis. “Home?”

Louis shrugs and then nods, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist. “Well, yeah. I’ll make this feel home,” he says. 

Harry smiles slowly, like he’s realizing bit by bit that he gets to stay here, that he gets to keep Louis. He throws himself at Louis, wrapping his arms around his neck, and Louis laughs. “C’mon, enough of that, now. I wanna go home.”

“Home,” Harry grins, letting Louis lead him out of the room and through the office. 

-

Not that Louis ever had doubts, but Harry adjusts remarkably well to human life. He adores living in Louis’s flat, still shares his bed every night, and begs him every chance he gets for a pet cat. Louis’s probably going to cave at some point, but for now, he’s been able to convince Harry that he’s just too busy.

It took a while for things to get back to normal at the office. Everyone still gives him a pretty wide berth, but that’s nothing new. He and Niall have always been the freaks in the basement office, and now Louis might be seen as a bit more of a freak, but he can deal with that.

Niall had been thrilled when Louis finally came back to work. They’ve always been partners in crime, so when Louis was able to sit down and tell him everything that had happened since he’d seen him last, Niall was absolutely enthralled. Just as Louis had suspected, Niall didn’t rat him out. Louis still has no idea how they found him. “You’re a hero, Lewis,” Niall cheered, stealing Louis an extra donut from the break room they weren’t allowed to enter as a present.

Harry still comes to work with him most days, but he doesn’t hang around his and Niall’s office as much anymore. He spends most of his time in the lab, learning about science and technology, and comes back down to the basement near the end of Louis’s work day to report all that he learned.

Louis’s just wrapping up his work for the day when the office door creaks open, and Harry shuffles in.

“Hi, love,” Louis hums, watching Harry pull a chair up next to his desk. “Learn anything interesting today?”

Harry slumps wordlessly into his arms, breathing into his chest. His fashion choices have gotten a bit more eccentric since Louis gave him the freedom to shop for himself, and Louis chuckles at the pink sheer shirt Harry’s wearing as he rubs at his back.

“Did you know that humans stay alive because they have blood running through them, and that if they lose too much blood they die?” Harry asks, hardly opening his mouth, making his speech nearly incoherent. If Louis didn’t know him so well, he probably would have to ask him to repeat himself.

“I did know that, as a matter of fact,” Louis hums. “Did you know that I, in fact, am a human?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry frowns, sitting up and looking at him. He picks up Louis’s hand, thumbing over the veins visible on the inside of his wrist. “Do I have blood like yours, you reckon?”

“I think so,” Louis shrugs, picking up Harry’s hand in return. “It’s probably not exactly like mine, but that doesn’t make it any less lovely,” he says.

Harry grins at him, and Niall gags outside of Louis’s field of vision. “You two are gross,” he mutters. “Figures you’ve got an alien boyfriend, Lou, since you never could get a human to fall in love with you.”

“Hey! I’ve had many humans fall in love with me, thank you,” Louis huffs. “But none of them were good enough for me. My standards are, I guess you could say, _out of this world_.”

Harry giggles and leans into his chest again, looking over at Niall. “How’s your love life, then, Niall?” he asks sweetly.

“Oh, fuck off,” Niall rolls his eyes. “You don’t happen to have an alien sister you can hook me up with, do you?”

“I do, actually, but she’s kind of lame,” Harry shrugs. It always amazes Louis how easily Harry talks about the family he left behind; he never gets sad when he thinks about home anymore, never misses it too much. He thinks of his family fondly, but he never gets sentimental about home. Louis figures that’s one of the things that makes him not quite human.

“Lame is exactly my type, luckily,” Niall snorts, shoving his laptop into his bag. “Right, well, I’m out of here,” he says. “Don’t do anything in here that I wouldn’t do, please.”

“So we can do anything, then?” Louis teases, sending Niall off with his tongue out.

“Can we go home, too?” Harry asks, sitting up a little. “Tired. Wanna cuddle, and eat Chinese food.”

“Sounds like a lovely evening,” Louis grins, pecking a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Sure, let’s head out.”

They pick up takeaway on the way back to the flat, and spend the evening exactly as Harry had suggested. Harry falls asleep in Louis’s lap on the sofa and Louis can’t be bothered to move him, so he just curls around him and falls asleep soon. It would be nice to have a cat, maybe, curled up with them like this, Louis thinks. Maybe he’ll tell Harry in the morning that they should start looking at adoption centers this weekend. For now, though, all he can bring himself to do is push their food containers to the coffee table and tug Harry closer, falling asleep with his face tucked into the curve of Harry’s warm neck.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you v much a lot for reading. 
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/160414018397/suspendrs-weve-got-to-get-away-from-here-by), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
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